


Daria: Sophomore Blues

by Gwendolyn_L_Spelvin (ArticulateMadness)



Category: Daria (Cartoon), Daria - Fandom
Genre: Gwendolyn L. Spelvin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 36,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArticulateMadness/pseuds/Gwendolyn_L_Spelvin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daria Morgendorffer has just survived her Freshman Year at Raft University, and is hoping like hell not to repeat the same boring mundane experience as a sophomore.  In an effort to assert herself more into the world, Daria bites the bullet to move off campus and get out on her own.  After making amends of their past over their mutual ex, her best friend Jane Lane joins her on this quest, still hanging in at Boston College Of Fine Arts.  Everything seems to be fine, until life unexpectedly changes without a moment's notice for Daria, forcing her to explore her newfound independence in a way she never imagined would ever happen.  As she starts living her life for the first time without anyone's preconceived notions, she truly realizes that while she's a better woman for the experience, change hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disclaimer

**DISCLAIMER**

Yeah, I know.  Disclaimers are pointless, but you have to give credit where the credit is due.

It’s pretty obvious since this is a fan fiction, that this isn’t based on any original characters the writer came up with (because if I did this show would still be going on, movies, or something). 

Daria is a character created by Mike Judge in _Beavis and Butthead_ , and all credit for that goes to him, as well as Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn, who created the show and subsequent characters therein for MTV/Paramount.  As a fan fiction piece, all credit to characters and locations from either show of _Beavis and Butthead_ and/or _Daria_ goes to them.  All rights reserved goes to them.  I do not own the intellectual property rights that this work is derived from, nor the self-gratification of finishing it.  All I’m doing is playing in their sandbox and hope they don’t get mad for slinging it around all willy nilly. 

This is for entertainment fandom purposes only; I just got tired of the Jane/Daria lesbian fare going on in the fanboy/fangirl cannon and decided for entertainment purposes to add my two sarcastic cents.  I even invented Malik Hunter & Wilhelm to get some of the job done (shameless plugging of the only thing I’ve added).  No financial compensation and/or profit will be made from this work (that is, unless the creators call me up and say, hey, you’re hired for the reboot as a writer, but that is another fandom wishful thinking).  This is a work of fiction about fictional representations of characters in the Daria cannon.  None of the events have ever happened on the television show; it’s not even for certain whether or not Jane nor Daria even attended college after being accepted.  All events that happen in this book are of my own creation and pacing, based upon the characters of the aforementioned.

This is an adult college themed book, with interpretations of those types of years, for those that remembered them.

If this offends the powers that be, please don’t sue me.  I’m trying to save up for another copy of the _Daria: The Complete Animated Series_ after playing my first box set out.

The original text was formatted in word correctly, but somehow indentations do not come over here.  All apologies for that.


	2. The Real Chapter One

I'm hoping my sophomore year at Raft isn't going to be a repeat of last year.

Despite glaring optimism of going to an institution of higher learning far away from codlings of the upper middle class, the majority of freshman year was spent loathing all that reminded me of Lawndale High. Thankfully my schooling never interferes with my education.

It was a bit of a letdown to still have a low opinion of my fellow students and teachers. Once again I was thrown into the Misery Chick status by faculty and student body alike who were more socially obsessed with university athletics and alcoholic induced organ failure engaged from extra-curricular campus activities than my stellar academic achievements.

My natural affinity to being a hermit preferring subtle comforts of the Communist Manifesto instead of a raging kegger didn't exactly win me a nomination for homecoming.

Still, it's better than walking the Ultra Cola halls with a caffeinated Ms. Li.

"I am so not a morning person." Jane calls trying to find the bathroom from touch rather than sight. Even half sleep and incoherent is better than Quinn having full makeup on before she brushes her teeth.

Jane and I decided to get an apartment off campus this semester. Every little bit counts saving for hazmat suits in case of a campus apocalypse.

Dorm life for Jane at Boston College of Fine Arts was just like dark clouds flying over Chernobyl as it was for me at Raft. The inability to concentrate on our work from campus sponsored distractions like pep rallies, fraternity dorm raids, and irritating roommates that were eager in embracing a college experience Brittany wanted hindered our own.

"I need caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine. Only God should be awake at this ungodly hour." Jane says. I forgot she was used to the vampire college schedule. Her best work comes out after midnight. Being up early for an eight o'clock class is like setting her eyeballs on fire.

I wasn't sure at first that living together was going to work. Our friendship endured more bumps in the last two years than what was on Upchuck's face after any given date. That Tom thing is still something we deal with on a miniscule but subconscious level.

Another Freshmen year as social outcasts all over again helped us to put scotch tape on the last vestiges of wounds and bond again. But it just didn't feel the same. Sigh.

Since we both have scholarships, menial job prospects, and our parents undying love through their bank accounts, we found a nice hovel between our two campuses that would make any slum landlord proud. It was no big deal for her, having been raised so independent.

But for me, I had parole for the first time without inmate supervision.

Mom made sure I stayed in a very strict dorm last year, void of any co-ed residents or visitors. Curfews in that prison interfered with my library time to find precedents for pardons of the others on the cell block. Bribing my Resident Director to keep tabs on me was her way emphasizing parental trust was such a morale booster.

Now my spirit is free, and flies free as a bird. I owe them a harmonica serenade.

Of course Dad was against it. He thought two young girls living in on their own in Boston was spending him right into the poorhouse. Couldn't quite figure out the rest as he went into a military school flashback rant and blew another eye vessel.

Mom surprisingly was supportive. She was her typical psychological explorative self, creating anecdotes she thought could help me relate to being on my own out in the world with my new feelings of leaving the nest. I think she was too eager to leave me dangling by the worm.

Jane's parents were as they always were. She had to follow her vision after a nice synopsis on freeing birds in gilded cages. Who says LSD does not have a lasting effect on the brain?

Outside of helping us cover the rent deposit, and the initial cases of Ramen to get us started, they closed the purse strings to us. Since we were on our own, they threw us out of the nest, not concerned if we landed beak first in the ground.

So like the financial aid queens we were damned to become, we took the student loans to live on. We budgeted to a fault to make sure rent was paid the entire semester. With what little was left with our refund checks, we decorated our shoebox.

Jane hit some thrift stores and abandoned dumpsters to make it look like a cool newspaper wrapped present.

It was another awesome Jane Lane creation. A living creative work of art, especially the Tom Sloan dartboard in the living room.

I found the used microwave, blender and a first edition Mr. Coffee that couldn't heat water. I thought it was a fair trade.

"I'm out of here before I miss the shuttle." I say grabbing my backpack and keys.

"Right behind you, kiddo." Jane groggily says back.

"What time are you done today?" I say, double checking I have my wallet and everything so I don't have to run back if I forgot something.

"Probably one. Symposium is today. No afternoon classes and I'm coming back getting in the bed. Pizza after my genius nap?"

"I'm in class until five, and then I have prep for all my research papers for the semester in the library. Probably won't be in until late. Order a pie and save me some."

"Well, damn. Aren't we ambitious on the first day of school."

The fresh air just wouldn't sting without a face full of snarky commentary before class.

Getting to our respective campuses is only a hop, skip, and shuttle ride of aggravation. Raft has their own transit that goes around a parts of Boston to make it easy for the criminals and students alike to intermingle regularly until midnight.

BFAC is on my route, in the opposite direction.

Despite picking Raft for its high scholastic achievements, classes here are equal to the level they were for me in high school with busier work to try and take my mind off it. Regardless of my scholarship, at 6500 a class, the unfair personal biases of m esteemed professors embittered to spend their lives here until death should at least teach me something new.

My creative writing classes are my only sanity in escaping this place.

I tested out of almost all the prerequisites English classes; the advanced classes have me reading everything I read in high school. Getting through _The Canterbury Tales_ or _A Tale of Two Cities_ is not going to that much of a stretch of my academic imagination. This semester I did myself a favor and opted out of the paranoia of any Friday classes.

Finally, me, Daria Morgendorffer, can sleep an entire day away at home without Mom making me get out of the bed for unarguable activities in the social sector.

No answering the phone and having to bear another crisis at the Fashion Club interrupting my self-imposed laziness. Just me and _Sick Sad World_. It's like being a pearl in a bed of oysters.

It also means Jane can drag me all over to parties to extend my budding nonexistent social life and having no place to run. Or throw parties at our house as I hide out in my room. If I'm lucky Jane will start dating some new guy, get obsessed over him, and just hang out at his place all the time to keep him away from me. After all, she still is shy about me meeting her guys after that Tom thing, even though he made the first move. I'm overthinking this again.

At either rate, a Friday free gives me more time to visit Jodie Landon. We became pretty good friends after graduation, believe it or not. Turner University is in Bridgeport, about two hours from here. When we can we visit each other and critique our fellow students' wasted efforts in scholastic achievement. It could be our future award show in the making.

Jodie and I talk regularly when time permits discussing where academia goes terribly wrong. It's like our own version of Institutionalized Anonymous.

Since taking the weight of academic Atlas off her shoulders her parents chained her to, she's really enjoyed her time in college. If only I could be so lucky. Lucky her. She truly deserved this academic downtime before she crashed and burned into a lifetime of therapy. A solid year of no extracurricular activities will mostly likely kill her father with a heart attack though.

Unlike Jane, Jodie makes time to talk to me if I'm really going through something I need to vent about, and vice versa. No topic is off limits, and she never makes me ashamed to ask questions about things that make me a total square to the popular kids.

It's nice to have someone that appreciates my brand of lameness.

Most of all I don't have to hide my intelligence to express myself, nor pretend to have it all together just because I'm intelligent. I can just be myself, something that is a bit uncomfortable to do with Jane sometimes when it comes to embarrassing subjects.

It's also an added bonus having some place to go when Raft and my roommate get on my nerves.


	3. The Real Chapter Two

They say you never know someone until you live with them. Whoever said that statement should have been awarded the Nobel Prize for Self-Conservation.

On a good day Jane and I don't normally have issues. Giving me a heads up on overnight guests, however, is not exactly winning her any fan favorite awards for roommate of the year.

Especially when it comes to her brother.

Our first weekend together was supposed to be quiet. Since my work study assignment hadn't come through yet, my Thursday evening after I got all my class work done was to crawl in the bed and let the Sick Sad Marathon watch me sleep into Friday morning.

I was fine until I come home to find Trent sleeping on the couch without notice.

Had it been any one of Jane's suitors it would be a non-issue, as she never would trust me enough to leave them there unattended.

Being Trent, it was a special case. She knew I liked him in high school, and always liked trying to out me about it in front of him, as if he would ever notice.

It always feels like Chinese citizens being forced to confess their crimes to the communists.

Jane was, of course, noticeably absent for this big surprise.

At least the bitch left a nice flyer on the fridge as to the nature of his visit. Mystik Spiral was playing for a fraternal group of aspiring collegiate alcoholics on my campus Saturday.

Whether or not I like it, Trent was crashing the weekend.

I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't say I was glad to see him. He still is sort of my crush and I miss our talks. They always came at the right time and were always insightful, even if he comes off like a lost deer in car headlights.

"Hey, Daria." a familiar voice says coughing behind me. I didn't even hear him get up. His deep voice always gives me those tingles that remind me that a menstrual cycle is not the only definitive proof I'm a human of the female persuasion.

"Hey Trent. Sorry if I work you up." He's wearing cologne that makes me fantasize about those bizarre black and white Calvin Klein commercials.

"Don't worry about it. Just a catnap. Janie let me in so I wouldn't have to sleep in the van."

"You two have, uh, plans tonight?"

"Not really. Janie's got class and the guys are hanging out with the sorority chicks we're playing for this weekend. Not my scene." That's right. Jane's studio lab is tonight until nine. At least all of Mystik Spiral wasn't spiraled in my living room. "You want to get something to eat?"

"Sure. I think we have enough Ramen for three."

The commissary diet really is nothing to be ashamed about.

"Let's go to the grocery store and get some stuff, you know, like cereal."

"I would love to Trent, but we're kind of on a fixed budget so it's the high blood pressure essential staples until the first."

Thanks Jane for setting me up for embarrassment alone, even though the only thing I've seen in a Lane refrigerator is art supplies. Well on your way to best friend of the year. I'm embarrassed to say even if I've never seen more than art supplies in their fridge.

More importantly, isn't being on your own great?

Trent reaches in his wallet and puts six hundred dollars on the table.

"Mystik Spiral got paid for this gig up front. It's cool, Daria."

That grin of his keeps reminding me I'm not an android.

"Who am I to argue with the power of dead American presidents."

"Good one, Daria." he says while we are both laughing.

Our walk to obtain sufficient nutrients with little side effects was more of a psychologist session with Trent on the couch. Normally, I'm the chatterbox and he the listening ear.

Mystik Spiral had gotten serious last year and turned pro, and it was finally paying off for them. I always knew Trent had it in him to create something more than nails on the chalkboard. They were close to their big break, playing college gigs for Kevin Thompson types. The suicidal tendencies of that reality clouded his feelings of success. Trent was having a hard time with his newfound infamy and the paycheck it brought.

Being anti-establishment in his own way, it ate at him the thought he sold out his art, especially after giving Jane hell about doing the same attending BFAC.

Even though neither of them admit it, Jane and Trent's once tight relationship splintered a when she got accepted. Trent was vocal about going to school for the creative muse a waste of one's talent. Jane took it a bit personal and still holds resentment about it.

So he really has no one to talk to about it but me.

I have no sympathy for his hypocritical stance. I mean, he is playing a ton of karaoke covers at institutions producing indoctrinated drones he feels are compromising Jane's talents. It's not like he's donating his money to Farm Aid after these gigs.

But I can sympathize with his guilt for excluding Jane from something as big as this in his life out of fear of her less than compassionate ridicule.

Since he claims to have never seen a filled fridge before, I take advantage of his guilt and load the basket up with enough essentials to survive after a nuclear holocaust in a bomb shelter.

Trent got a lot of trail mix and two cases of Irish beer stouts. The breakfast of champions. Since I've never drink, and Jane only does wine in mixed company, he definitely was setting his mind to a serious hangover.

"Are you sure about all of this Trent? This is a lot of money." I say, as the total crosses over three hundred. Jane and I have never spent that much on food, even splurging.

"You guys are letting me crash at your place. Better on food than the hotel where the guys are staying at." he says calmly in a whisper.

This is new. I've never seen Trent run or hide from anything Mystik Spiral like hellhounds chasing him. I've also never seen Trent do any manual labor that didn't involve moving an amp. At his insistence of replicating a slave experience, he carried all the groceries back by himself.

I've never seen Dad even do that for Mom after grocery shopping.

It was the night that Trent arrived and all through our house, not a cupboard of refrigerator shelf was left barren to louse. When everything was put up, he stared into the fridge, hypnotized by the little man that turns the light on when the door opens.

"So that's what a full fridge with food looks like, huh Daria?" he said in amazement.

"Yeah. Then the race downhill to gain twenty pounds before the expiration dates begins."

"Cool. Want to order a pizza? I'm a bit tired after this." Trent says closing the fridge.

Can't argue with logic and deductive reasoning on that.

Boston has its fair share of chain pizza places that serve tomato sauce on a circle of plastic and cardboard, but there is one down the street that reminds us of our watering hole in Lawndale with pretty mediocre delivery.

It took about two hours for the pizza to come. Trent took a nap, and I took a shower, and got my jogging pants and t-shirt on for the unattractive look around the house.

He didn't say anything to me until we ingested the last quart of grease from the box.

"Thanks, Daria." he says softly, breaking open one of his beers.

"For what? I should be thanking you for the groceries and dinner."

"You know, for listening. Me and Janie don't take many rides anymore." he says with sadness.

"Don't mention it, Trent. You can always talk to me, even if I take a vow of silence."

In an act of gratitude, he hands me one of his beers. It only took me a year to be offered a gateway drug. I try to graciously decline the offer, but he wasn't taking no for an answer.

This might have been my last chance on the road to a beer pong championship and I didn't want to blow it. We toasted and turned a tall boy up. Down the hatch to alcoholism I go.

My first taste of alcohol before it's almost not illegal, and it was with Trent.

I'd always thought Jane would be the one to teach me how to hold my liquor. You're just full of surprises, aren't you Morgendorffer? Wasn't that bad either with the pizza.

I remember reading a book about alcohol etiquette where it said to sip and not chug to slow down any effects of inebriation and induced vomiting. So far, so good. I'd hate to waste all this free pizza I just ate.

"College has made you even cooler, Daria."

"Must be my status as one of the top socialites in the fraternity scene in Boston."

We laugh, and he coughs a bit on that one.

"I mean it. You've always been free to try new things and know your limits. I like that about you."

"So have you. You just don't give yourself enough credit for it."

Laughter gives away to more silence than a funeral with two sets of kids meeting for the first time. He takes my hand and gets really serious. I hope he doesn't tell me somebody died.

"Do you think I'm a sellout, Daria?" Maybe it was better if he had of told me somebody died. I'm taken off guard by the question, yet could relate to his anguish.

I feel like this as a writer sometimes. Constantly questioning yourself as to compromising your intended vision is worse than lying to the world about weapons of mass destruction.

"No, Trent. Look, you set a career goal for yourself and were brave enough to see it through and get its rewards. Being rewarded as artists is like portraying a real life Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, it tends to come with pressure to compromise our work at some point in our careers to reach a level of uncomfortable commerciality. It's inevitable and the first sign that adulthood really bites."

"I just don't want it to mess with my message." he says. "The guys are really buying into this celebrity and fame, and I don't like it. Max even bought a new _Tank_ and a new drum kit. Nothing was wrong with the old ones but he said our image needed it."

While it is no great loss to the world losing the first _Tank_ , or a drum set held up with masking tape, I could see the concern Trent was having on their newfound cash flow. Money changes people sometimes, and not for the better.

I still remember not too long ago when they couldn't even oversee a booth at the flea market unsupervised, but now was not the time to remind him of his previous fiscal irresponsibility.

"The attention and financial compensation for the merits of our ambition is the upside to the aggravation and stress of bending to the will of our fickle target demographic. Reinvesting that source funding allows you upward mobility in your career by giving you a revenue stream for equipment, gear, and transportation."

"Yeah, but I'm more stressed when we were as starving artists. We've lost our edge."

"Trent, nothing says stress relief and creativity like a few Ben Franklins for motivation."

Trent finishes his beer in the silence of contemplation. That probably sounded like a Mandarin thesis paper to him. His self-loathing of being self-sufficient was an inner conflict.

But at the same time, he bemoaned having to get money from his parents for his lifestyle.

"It is nice to be able to afford stuff for my guitar." he says, never taking his eyes off me. "I haven't had to play four strings in a while because I couldn't replace the broken ones."

And the world breathes a collective sigh of instant relief at this new development. Some of those past shows sounded like a cat eating a canary that chose screaming agony over death.

"I know it's an adjustment for you, but I'm proud of what you've accomplished. Achieving any artistic endeavor is not an easy thing with talent and the best of circumstances."

"Really, Daria?" he says pausing, "Coming from you that means a lot."

"Really Trent. You're on your way. Just take it one step at a time."

Without warning, we embraced in an unplanned kiss that swept us both away.

And Just like with Tom, I never saw it coming.


	4. The Real Chapter Three

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! This feels so good. This can't be happening. I'll wait and see if this is another strange fantasy brought on by too much penne alla pesto. Wake up, Daria.

This is no dream. I more awake than a Mountain Dew binge for finals week. Can't even blame it on the alcohol, as I didn't drink enough to feign inebriation.

While not experienced in the nuances of lust, I've read enough Lady Chatterley's Lover and The Wife of Bath tale enough to have context clues on where it could go.

I knew I was in trouble before I felt him slip his tongue in my mouth.

At least with Tom, I had the excuse of guilt of betraying my best friend to stop, even after we got together with her blessing. With Trent, there was no inhibitions or boundaries.

Tom's passion prose was like racing thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby. Trent was on his own time in his own world. This just felt so natural, so unrushed and uninterrupted. Pretty much a great Lifetime movie of the week where everybody dies.

"Was it okay that I did that?" he asks.

"Um, yeah." I said a bit overwhelmed.

"I'm still sensitive to shifts in mood and thought it was the right time." he says quietly.

"Nice to see you still pay attention to ethereal transference." I say in jest.

And then we both mutually lean in and got hot and heavy again.

History may not exactly repeat itself, but it has a tendency to rhyme a lot.

I thought I had long buried my feelings for Trent, especially after Tom and I got together. After all, he was the one who gave the heads up first that Tom had a thing for me. Right now it's irrelevant. I've sunk into the lowest spiritual form and reemerged a willing harlot.

We wound up tangled like a big ball of cables on the couch, with Trent on top of me. At least I can say that was no great surprise. While Tom was nowhere close to this ingenuity, I did benefit bumping my experience level up a couple of notches.

I had a good handle on the compromised situation in a false sense of security. There were little shivers when he copped a feel or two while on my neck, but I played them off as being cold. I didn't blink when he took his shirt off to get more comfortable. I'd seen him shirtless before.

My worldly woman façade quickly turned to paralysis shock when Trent took my shirt off to get more comfortable. Holy shit. Not even Tom saw or touched my naked bare flesh. I don't know how far he went with Jane, but we never took the cover off the pristine car.

I was more embarrassed than that time he caught me wearing his grandmother's hideous nightgown that time I slept over. I immediately covered my chest with my arms to block his sight.

You could have heard a mouse piss on a ball of cotton in the dumpster outside it got so quiet. His long gaze stroking the fine hairs on my arms covering my fun bags were weakening my defenses. Get it together, Morgendorffer.

"Why do you hide how sexy you are, Daria?" Gag reflex, maybe?

Slowly, he pulled my arm away, like I was a feral kitten he was trying to catch without getting clawed. And I uncomfortably let him. The hole in the wall got my undivided attention as I was too embarrassed to watch what was going on.

I'm not best when it comes to intimacy. Normally I'm colder than Leona Helmsley eating a small child when it comes to things like this, at least with Tom. But this was Trent; he just has a way about him that makes the little voice of reason inside your head betray you.

Especially being frolicked in places you've never been frolicked before.

I'd be lying if I said I never had this below the neck fantasy before with Trent. But it plays out different in your head when the love interest is slaying Beowulf before rescuing you.

I'd like to thank the public school educational system for their non-existent sex ed classes for the preparation of feeling exposed to the highest levels of embarrassment possible while relying on trial, error, and hearsay to navigate the unchartered waters of my blossoming virginity.

When the sensation of something wet and warm crossed my nipples, I could feel the grease from the digested pizza raise in temperature. That, or it was acid reflux. I don't know how I feel about liking it yet.

All I can do is caress his head in overwhelming sensory appreciation until the bad timing of my roommate interrupted our moment. If ever there were a moment I'd want to share with Jane, it would be me taking the pin and letting her keep the grenade to keep her out.

Frozen fear gave way to the jingling of keys in the door as she struggled to find the correct one to turn the lock. I grabbed by shirt and ran to my room so fast I think I broke the sound barrier. I was in no mood to explain this new development.

Thank God talk is cheap and Jane's supply exceeds demand. A good two minutes picking on Trent for improper table etiquette, poor recycling techniques, and misdirected blame in poor hygiene in the air was enough to get my shirt back on, plop a squat on the floor, and turn to a random chapter in Pride and Prejudice before she made a stop by my room.

"Look, Daria, sorry about the Trent thing. He got this gig at the last minute and you were already gone to class." she said poking her head in my room.

"It's okay. He's your brother and he's always welcome to squat in our overpriced squalor out of the rain." Among other things.

"Nice to see you've embraced our homeless shelter for wayward youths with open arms. Thanks."

"Well Jane, you never learn anything wrong by doing it right."

"Let me make it up to you. Let's go out. It's not like you're going to sit here reading about pride the whole weekend, right?"

"But I'm just getting to the part where the book frees itself from prejudice and despises everyone equally."

"C'mon. Let's go grab Trent and paint the town."

"I'll take a raincheck. I'm fresh out of blood, gold stars, and glitter."

"You're never going to meet guys with your nose in a book." she says going to her room.

"Let's hope."

"You're going to get some new college experiences if it kills me, Morgendorffer."

If only Jane Lane knew.


	5. The Real Chapter Four

I have never been so close to the experience of a placard on the wheel they spin of Wheel of Fortune in my life. Where it stops, only the techs behind the curtain know.

Cue random acts of college mayhem sans hysteria that is currently my life.

While I admit living out a fantasy crush made an awesome memory, I'm not exactly thinking Trent is looking for a relationship that doesn't involve a guitar. Neither am I, even though I lacked the nerve to see what was behind door number two had he come into my room later that night and finished that discussion we were having on the couch.

Between Jane dragging him to every hole in the wall, rehearsals, and sound checks, he was busier than the president during state of the union. I made myself scarce to avoid that awkward after the fact moment until he left.

"Be safe, Trent. Just remember, don't take life so serious. It isn't permanent." I say.

"Good to see you too, Daria. I hope to see all of you when I come back." he says, slyly grinning. It didn't go any further because the interruption of everything formerly known as Jane came in to see him off. Just as well. I'd hate her to pick up on any vibe between us.

The key of keeping secrets is selectively hiding your resources to store them until life returns to denial. After all, when life gives you lemonade, it's usually just Tom.

After moving off campus, both Jane and I started running into Tom like most of Europe ran into the black plague. While we kept a casual post-breakup friendship, we weren't exactly on a homie hangout level either.

To add insult to injury, Bromwell by car wasn't far enough from our campus to avoid him entirely, since Boston was the closest city to have a life.

Besides coping with random appearances that bordered on professional stalking, I could only assume Bromwell wasn't all that he feigned it would be and was just bored with a life of pretentious trust fund babies with idiot proof country club memberships into school.

And if you make something idiot proof, somebody with money will make a better idiot.

Tom wanted to hang around familiar surroundings as he was more paranoid of people taking advantage of his family name. Granted, he saw nothing hypocritical in buying our time with financial contributions in the form of culinary delight excursions.

While I'd rather hammer tacks into a gorilla while enclosed in an escape proof cage than go out with him, college kids are easily bought with a Ramen based diet.

I had no qualms about taking advantage of his country club privilege for a burger and fries. Jane and I kept distance about him hanging around though; unlike me she keeps enough dates on her social calendar not to take advantage of the Sloane food bank.

Our Tom dartboard in the living room was definitely taking a well-earned beating after hanging out.

People normally change as they get older, and Tom definitely did in a different direction than better. I was bored with him before college which contributed to our breakup.

That, and I already had a vision of him turning into a pompous egotistical asshole once the gravity of inheriting his family's money weighed down his back.

I have really great depth perception, because my vision of his future was exactly 20/20.

Listening to his repetitively long, overly insightful, predicated musings on Bromwell's nepotistic campus collective were equivalent to serving life in prison without the possibility of parole for stealing a matchstick.

If I am ever in a situation of giving up secrets to the government or locked in a room to listen to Tom's delusions of outcast grandeur, being a self-proclaimed free thinker and a child of the world ashamed of his family's genocidal legacy, I'd tell them whatever they wanted to hear.

He definitely had a closet of tinfoil hats in all shapes because nothing could be trusted.

"I don't know if they want to be my friend for me, or my family's money. Are you familiar with that type of insecurity, Daria?" A central thematic concern that is the subject of our every conversation, no matter the circumstance.

Are you familiar with who gives a flying shit, Tom? The world does not revolve on its axis around you or your family lobbying for communal property laws.

"You should transfer. Live the dream and go to a school where your grandfather doesn't have a wing named after him because he built it."

A continuing cavalcade of fear, loathing, and insecurities of defying his parents is enough to make Shakespeare jealous he didn't write this play first. What the hell did I see in him?

Outside of being a great kisser, this guy has absolutely the soul of a rock.

Only a career as a kissing booth attendant or a premiere scientist trying to find a world cure for mononucleosis could give his depressing manifesto a reason to live.

Thanks to the one act of big government that has ever been proved successful, my new work study assignment gave me a reason to ditch Tom unless I was absolutely bored.

Due to my excellent command of the English language in comparison to my classmates, I was assigned as a writing tutor in the study lab. I had high hopes of sharing the joys of Chaucer, but wound up bored most days from the contractual agreement with financial aid. Oh, joy.

After all, most people assigned to me were too busy to interrupt pledging to keep their grade point average above a D minus.

I used the time for homework or catching up on reading. Hope the government thinks its money well spent for these mandatory twenty hours a week.

Not everybody took the hint I just wanted to be left to my own leisure.

"Wow, you're reading _The Decameron_? What professor hates your guts?" said an unfamiliar voice.

I normally never acknowledge a strange voice that may ask stupid questions. They may abuse the privilege of their own stupidity. But this voice pronounced the name of the book right.

"It's for my Medieval Literature class." I say, never raising my head from the book.

"Yeah, well, nothing says medieval pornography like cabin fever during the Black Plague."

Ok, now that was actually funny. When I turn around there is this pretty cute guy standing in front of me with a great smile.

"My name is Malik. Malik Hunter. You must be one of the newbies." he says, taking a seat.

"Yeah, they threw me down here for work study to help tomorrow's backwards poets write inverse." I say sarcastically. "Maybe if I do the job bad enough, they won't ask me to do it again."

"Not likely in this zoo; egoists are encouraged to have an I for and I. Good to have goals of escape though." We both laugh. "So, what do they call you?" he says curiously?

"The misery chick or a brain, depending on who you ask."

"Kids can be cruel after educational indoctrination."

"Or severe constipation from a federally mandated school lunch program." This guy is alright. "Daria. Daria Morgendorffer."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

And that is how it always starts; sarcastic quips. You'd think I'd know better. It seems like I can resist everything, exception temptation.

 


	6. The Real Chapter Five

An academic calendar's days are already numbered. So it was nice for the next couple of weeks to have Malik help pass the time with cynical jesting at work.

His self-proclaimed cool nerd persona defying the pocket protector stereotype wasn't hard on the eyes, either.

Originally from Charlotte, he had a partial scholarship just like me, even though his GPA was 3.98 with a physics major, biochemistry minor.

I guess it was more important on the school's priority list to reward the football jock with full free classes for the extra brainpower it took to catch a pigskin.

Malik also spoke a couple of Asiatic languages fluently.

"At least if my career aspirations don't pan out, I can embark on a career as hired gun for kung-fu subtitles. It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it in English." he would joke.

I was smitten at his choice of major. I would only get into the sciences for elaborate suicidal tendencies. At least I know who to call for chemical warfare to take me out of my misery.

Especially going into midterms.

The gravity of grade point average decline affecting student eligibility in extra-curricular activities the week before and during midterms made my life at work one cliché after another, with little time to socialize.

So Malik asked me out to lunch to catch up and compare notes on our version of hell week.

Trent's groceries had all but run out, and Tom's boring soliloquy's on his self-injustices of rich privilege were not worth the irritation after two hard weeks at work for a free meal.

Malik had himself a deal.

We settled on a place that put the absurdity of the Lawndale Coffee House to shame. Raft's on campus coffee house boasted living theater performances by the Theater Arts majors.

Nothings says overpaying for your education like perfecting a miming technique begging for change to buy overpriced caffeinated beverages.

I've got to get out in the city more.

It was a nice change from the mundane to have another friend to hang out with. It was a natural progression to very casual dating, since Malik was paying for everything.

The hot swinging dating scene for me was not all that it was cracked up to be.

I knew going into it Malik was a very introverted nerd. I just underestimated how committed he was to the lifestyle of his major. All of our dates were nothing more than an extension of class activities.

We went to faculty lectures on campus, saw museum exhibits of visiting artists, and for really wild dates, we went to the planetarium.

My dates with Tom almost always included television. Malik didn't watch the idiot box. So some of our dates were just quiet evenings in the library reading.

Every man on campus will be beating down my door when they hear about this!

There was no remote possible chance for physical intimacy. No spontaneous kissing, no hand holding over lectures about quantum physics. I probably couldn't con him out of a hug at a funeral.

This was worse than dating the male version of me.

Just as well. Without television we'd be watching the walls and philosophizing on the chemical compounds that make the paint chip. That's be too much excitement for one night.

Jane was thrilled at my progress with this progressive dating scene, mostly because I was finally going out with somebody other than Tom.

She never ceased in volunteering her opinion on what Cosmo said would make me more appetizing for his scientific pallet.

"Write him a nice erotic story and slip it in his library book. Give him something to make you stay on his mind. He's a science guy, give him a chemical reaction." she says frustrated.

"That's not his speed. He's more of a War and Peace book borrower."

"Are you sure he's not gay? It's an epidemic at BFAC. Maybe the contagion spilled to Raft."

"Thanks a lot for implying my smothering femininity is working."

Granted, I know he's not gay because I sometimes see his eyes wandering just like Tom's.

"Then what is it Daria? Are you at least trying to put out with this guy with your morbid flirtatious nature, or what?" I find it funny she is more obsessed with my sex life than I am.

"He's not comfortable with intimacy. I can understand that. His studies come first."

"Then make him pick you up as a major. Peer pressure! Peer pressure! Put his hands where they need to go since he likes studying so much."

"That's called sexual molestation in forty-nine states and subjected to a felony."

"At least being on the sex offender list will make people think you've been getting some."

"This isn't a serious relationship. We're just hanging out." I said annoyed.

"Geez, you're almost twenty years old and still a virgin. If you don't get the cobwebs out soon, it's going to dry rot on you." Moral support is so her strong suit in my sex life.

She's normally just a pain in my neck. Now my opinion of her has lowered a little bit south of where the previous pain is.

Jane's academic agenda during her first semester of BFAC was losing her virginity by any means necessary. That was always her plan, to wait until college as to not compete within a smaller selection pool back at home.

That, or risk having the person deflowering her be the same one that deflower me.

With due diligence she achieved this goal far beyond her original expectations. Since becoming a woman I don't want to say she's been loose, but like a merry-go-round, not too many people haven't been on the ride.

Now I feel her sexual superiority complex as if I'm not her equal just because I'm resisting the urge to be a fellow happy hooker partner in crime.

I've been there for her last year with far too much info regarding the pregnancy scares, the STD scares, and just plain blackout from too many idiots with no name. I still don't know who actually took her virginity, or those that made sure it would never return.

Which reminds me, I need to pick up some more bleach for the toilet. It's almost time for another round of lust in a time of random morons.

As much as I want to pry and get clarification on proclivities of the sexually active, her attitude doesn't do me any favors to spill. She acts like I'm not human, and just as curious as every hot blooded American teenager in the peak of her sexual angst portrayed in a Hollywood film.

So I called Jodie. And as much as I wanted to tell her all the gossip, but I'm so paranoid that Jane may be eavesdropping or interrupt the conversation, the best I could do was a very G-rated version until we are in person.

At least all this dating gave me an ample food source for when my work study checks weren't covering the basic essentials, like vegetables.

 


	7. The Real Chapter Six

The week before Thanksgiving break was like living in the psychiatric ward with Mildred Ratched, who wouldn't take no for an answer on the lobotomy.

I got an earful from home about skipping out on the holiday festivities. The long trip, travel, and having to see Quinn be cute in uncomfortable shoes that made her feet hurt just weren't worth a mere two days of cancelled classes in celebration of decimating the Native Americans.

Granted, I sincerely hoped this wasn't going to interfere with Santa bringing me a new laptop for Christmas. I'd be home to see Santa's helpers as insubordinate clauses for that Hallmark holiday.

Jane originally was going to hang back as well, but at the last minute started feeling nostalgic for the Lane family reunion bonding moment. That put her in a rush to finish up projects that were due she hadn't even started yet and provoked a bitch at the terror dome vibe around the house.

I love deadlines. The swoosh sounds they make flying by remind me to take it easy.

Being done with all of my work and no students to tutor won me no nominations for best multitasker in the house. Salt poured over the open wound as I lounged in the house bored as she sweated through assignments.

And right when the tension gets thick, Tom drops back in view to hand us a knife.

Tom had the bright idea of inviting us to the John Cassavettes festival on BFAC's campus. I had my sights on suggesting to Malik we go, but his lab homework that could possibly blow up the science department monopolized his time.

Feigning boredom and the possibility of an environment that prohibited Tom's self-awareness tangents, I took him up on the offer. Jane begrudgingly declined, as her studio art project was nowhere close to finished and due before she left.

So here we go again with this you got him over me epidemic.

The festival itself made the Stanford Experiment a more ideal campus activity. The only films they showed were the obscure vaulted ones that were so horribly conceptualized there was no question narcotics were involved in the production of the films.

So much for broadening my horizons at the cinema.

With most of the campuses winding down for the holidays, there wasn't much left to do but eat. And somehow, that turned into winding up at his place.

I had not been to Bromwell since the day we drove up there and he blocked all my chances of seeing Raft. Completely slipped my mind how much I relish the smell of the arrogant rich socialite offspring in the evening mist.

The impression Tom gave in his rhetoric was that he lived in the dorms. At least that is what it led the intelligent mind to assume. Instead, he's living in the guest cottages on campus set aside for alumnus and American politicians overpaid for speaking engagements.

It infuriated me that Tom was really convinced his life was so unbearable in the world where he paid no rent for his cushy little bungalow while Jane and I had to borrow from loan sharks to cover our high rent in slum village or campus closets, take your pick.

Tom's narcissistic ego is never one to let a noticeably quiet Daria not go over his head.

There was little comfort in the very expensive pizzas and premium movies for me. After all, he had a premium cable package that rivaled Air Force One, a screen projector for his wall, DVD player, and a wall with more titles for it that a video rental store.

All I had a small desk television and a broken antenna I've had since the fifth grade.

"Hey, Daria, you want to smoke some pot? Every toke helps fund a rebel faction of Sandinistas."

I wasn't sure if I heard him correctly or not when he first asked, and my pausing silence gave him enough time to retrieve a very big bag of buds from his bedroom.

"Are you serious? You smoke pot now?" I said a bit perplexed.

"Only as a donation to help overthrow Central American dictators sponsored by our government. Helps me get a new perspective on my journey in life." he said taking a deep breath into the bag. Well, that explains a lot.

"Gary Webb would be just so damn proud of you."

I've listened to enough of The Chronic in passing to know that bag Tom keeps taking oxygen hits from is worth three months of my rent. Rich privilege has its perks, right?

Under more tolerable circumstances, I may have let my curiosity get the better of me. Sharing this first with him is like sharing an apple with a cannibal.

I was also holding out that my Aunt Amy would be my gateway guide to the mystery of the green leaf.

"Um, you know that is illegal, right? If you are caught with that much stuff they may question whether or not Pablo Escobar faked his death."

"It's only illegal because paper barons wanted to cut down trees and waste our oxygen source."

Oh no, here we go; a forty-five-minute soapbox pulpit showdown that no doubt will tie his personal angst in comparison to the corruption of corporate entities with weed legalization.

"Do you want anything to drink? I got some perishables in the back that are nowhere close to their expiration date."

"Irish stouts." Oh yes, I need to get nice and tight to grit and bear a spoof of an auditorium lecture on my one night off.

"You drink stouts now? I'm impressed. Never took you for having a premium high octane type liver."

"You'd be amazed what the years of psychological babble from my peers can do to bring on late teenage alcoholism. Self-medication is the buzz word for long winded synopsizes."

We laugh that nervous timid laugh like you're not sure if it is appropriate to do so.

"I can run quick and go get some." Before I can tell him to not even bother with it, he grabs his keys and leaves before I can blink my eyelids. Well isn't he the little road runner.

He was in such a rush he left his portable oxygen bag of buds on the table.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I took a big deep breath into the bag to see what it was all about. Smelled like watered down lemon pledge car freshener to me.

As rich as he is, it probably was funding some guerillas in a small Latin American country whose government slaughtered and stole land from farmers to grow it.

So I'm sure he won't mind if I confiscate some of his property either in good karma.

If I were capable of shame, rummaging through his kitchen looking for sandwich baggies like I was the secret police looking for incriminating documents to arrest an innocent man might bother me. At least I have higher morals than that.

I proudly proclaim this handful of buds from Tom's stash to my pocket in the name of the Republic.

Bringing back every type of beer other than the one I asked for is not inspiring a confession, either.

"If you're going to be a beer schnob Daria you can't drink slopping foam. Those are for drunks. You need to try these out first." he said, making not one, not two, but three trips to his car to unload. They all looked pretty expensive and exclusive to only country clubs and diplomats with immunity.

Great. A fine evening being scolded on ales, stouts, malts, porters, and lagers. I felt like he was going to give me an exam to prove I knew all the color distinctions too.

He guzzled, I sipped. By the second movie and the second four pack of Imperial Stouts, sleep had come for us. I vaguely remember nodding in and out of eye blinks.

At least his snoring serenade calling in the hogs lulled me to sleep.

I woke up first. Everything seemed normal until I sat up and the room moved while I was still. Almost five in the morning, class in a couple hours, and my first hangover without strong spirits.

Tom needs to do the collective a favor and buy his degree so he can move.

"Tom, get up. I gotta go." I said, trying to make the room not move as much against inertia. He stretched, yawned, and scratched in places that gave too much information.

Nice to see he is so well adjusted to hangovers that he can shake them off easily.

"Hey, how about some breakfast first. You feel like pancakes?"

Does the room spinning look like I'm feeling pancakes right about now?

"I can't. I got class this morning and I need to put on something not doused in beer sweats."

"You know it was real nice hanging out with you again, Daria. Even reliving waking up in the middle of the night after falling asleep in assuming positions."

"It's just not the same without Dad trying to boil milk to calm his vodka nerves."

There was that awkward pause again. Can't he just take the hint?

"Yeah. Well, I've missed us."

"You invited Jane out on this little excursion too."

"I miss hanging out with Jane. She's so cool and eclectic and from another world."

Not this shit again. It's too early in the morning to go down breakup betrayal road.

"I know. I've seen this very bad after school special before. It's still not winning Emmys."

"I miss the two of you. You guys were my only real friends that didn't care who I was."

Or the only ones desperate enough to fall for your fabricated bullshit that smears nicer than drywall. Must be nice to have selective memory on how we stabbed my best friend in the back, destroying the one stroke of good fortune in having a genuine friend that felt my plight.

And yet that bitter resentment didn't stop me from kissing him again.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! You know better than this, Morgendorffer.

It felt as gratifying as a greasy double cheeseburger and an order a fries. It felt rushed like lacking patience to read a book without peeking at the ending.

It definitely felt sinful enough to wear a scarlet letter from submitting proudly to lust.

Now that I had someone else to compare him to, he was no great master in art of foreplay. He didn't take all the time in the world like Trent. Hands groped and rushed so quick I couldn't catch their position.

But damn if he didn't remember that spot right up under my earlobe that reminds me I'm capable of a woman's desires if provoked. I feel like an extra on Dynasty.

Tom's hands slid unprotested in areas that were foreign to him, in areas that should have never made it up under my clothes to begin with.

"Oh, Daria. I've been wanting to do this with you for a long, long time."

I see he hasn't learned how to quit before he's ahead yet and blows the moment.

His pace slowed down tremendously once his hand found a comfortable rotation between my legs. Then I felt something tight as his fingers entered a domain they never felt before.

He got through the Iron Curtain. Communism fell with every stroke. Melody Powers would be proud.

It didn't feel good and it didn't feel bad. At first. The tight pressure and fit of his finger gave way to the aroused resources that he still couldn't see. From how he was going about touch, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Tom could have been more gentle for my liking, and not reminiscent of shoving the wrong key through the lock. There were moans in the air that I was shocked to find belonged to me. I thought of it as subconscious guilt from the far pits of my stomach's despair.

The pressure in my nether regions was overwhelming. Another series of firsts with the last person in the world they should be with. Tom said wouldn't stop until he felt a sticky release.

He was just going to have to take a raincheck. I got class at eight.

 


	8. The Real Chapter Seven

Creeping in the house at six a.m. was definitely a first for me. So was Jane wide awake waiting for me on the couch like my parents would have to interrogate me to my whereabouts.

No doubt she saw me get out of Tom's car in a hurry and come up.

"Well, well. Look who remembered she had a home. Do you know what time it is, young lady?" she said in a condescending tone.

"Yes. Time for the shuttle to start running and me to get ready for class, oh, and figure out how to get my head from vibrating against the pitter patter of my irregular heartbeat."

I took off to my room, with Jane biting at my heels like an underfed dog.

"Get serious, Daria." she said from the doorway.

"I am serious. Ricky Ricardo is in my right temple practicing a Babalou conga solo as Lucy begs in a high pitched howl to be in the show from the left temple." I said, struggling to bend down into my drawer and get fresh clothes.

"So you got drunk, got your nerve together, and came back a woman, eh?"

Here we go again.

"What are you talking about?" I said annoyed.

"Oh, geez Daria, don't play dumb. You slept with Tom last night! The film festival was over by nine, so don't tell me you're just getting back from _the cinema_." she said, almost irate but still condescending tone.

"Look, I didn't sleep with him! The film festival was a bust, we went back to his place to watch a movie, ate pizza, and he got some high volume beer instead of the stouts I asked for and we got wasted and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up, saw what time it was, and woke him up so I could get home in time for class."

The rest of our playtime was a need to know basis, and based on how she was acting, Jane wasn't getting top level security clearance to know.

"Wait, so you didn't sleep with him? He didn't try anything?" she said disbelievingly.

"No, Jane. Don't you think if I had of done something that big I would have cut class and told my best friend about it?"

That was enough to shut her the hell up and feel guilty on treating me like a criminal.

"I'm sorry Daria. It's just that when I got back last night and you weren't here, my mind started playing tricks on me the later it got."

"Jane. Tom and I are friends. Just like you and Tom are friends. We are not dating, we are not kindling a romance, and we are not intimate." This was aggravating my headache.

"I feel like such an ass."

"Yeah, well, a boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat."

"It's just that since Tom has been coming around lately, it's been rehashing some not so nice feelings from the past."

"Jane. That was high school. You broke up with him. I broke up with him. It's done. He's the same annoying little shit he was then, if not worse, going in a completely different direction than we are.

"Language young lady. My previously virgin ears." she says mockingly.

"Whatever. As my finances are compromised regularly, I have no problems taking advantage of his wasted wealth to eat something other than salt brine."

"I know, I know, I know. It just was bugging me you could have possibly had sex with him and with him as your first."

"Why? You're acting like you guys are back together and you think I'm trying to take him from you again. Is there something you want to tell me? Are you sleeping with him?"

"No, no. I'm not sleeping with Tom. Why would you think that?" she says, rushing through the sentence.

"Because you're sitting here giving me the third degree like I'm the enemy."

There's that awkward pause again.

"No, it's not that. It's just that it really made me think."

"Thanks a lot." I say slamming past her and into the bathroom. Misery chick 2.0.

"No, it's like, I'd hate to think me heckling you about doing it would make you jump at any old, and I do mean old, opportunity. I just don't want you to throw it away like I did out of desperation. You deserve your first time to be better and more special than mine." she says somberly, like she actually gives a damn.

"You didn't just throw it away and you weren't desperate. You were curious and brave enough to explore the possibilities of your sexuality. That's nothing to be ashamed about, unless you were living in Romania under Nicolae Ceaușescu." We both laugh at that one.

"It's not easy you know, being easy. Well, not without the right willing participants."

"You're not easy. You're just brave enough to enjoy the potential of the experience. One day I'll get there and tell you all about it. In the meantime, you can live vicariously through all of my hot dates with Malik listening to auditorium lectures on quantum physics."

"As much as that just turns me on you can spare me the sordid details."

"You sure? The theory of relativity workshop at the planetarium is dripping with hot and bothered foreplay."

"No thank you. You can enjoy those perks by yourself. Wow. You sure know how to pick them." At least the laughing is cutting tension.

We were somewhat okay in the house after that.

Jane left Monday before Thanksgiving. Trent was supposed to pick her up, but Mystik Spiral got some last minute gigs and he couldn't make the trip. That left her leaving at the last minute on the bus Monday morning, with longer stops and delays.

I'd be a hypocrite if I said being alone in the apartment without her was unpleasant. We needed a break from each other beyond just closing the doors to our bedrooms.

I didn't expect her back until Sunday night.

Malik had only enough time to meet for tea before he left the next day. Surprisingly, he invited me home for the holidays so I wouldn't be stuck on an empty campus eating spam.

I politely declined, stressing the importance in my experiment of living in solitude without developing Stockholm Syndrome. It was still nice of him, considering I haven't seen his place yet.

When life gives you lemons, it's usually Tom. He just had to fill up the answering machine rubbing it in he was going to the Cove and offering me an exclusive ride to tag along.

Road trips with the Sloanes never go as planned nor follow the intended destination schedule. Every year they go to the Cove and every year it gets rained out, resulting in last minute catering. I'll let my passive aggressive silence give him the answer to that offer.

Campus shut down to a ghost town by noon Wednesday. No shuttles, no nothing. The 30 days of night look suited my self-imposed isolation just fine.

While everybody was getting into the spirit of celebrating spreading smallpox to the indigenous, I was making the tough choices between chicken, beef, or shrimp Ramen. Three hot dehydrated meals a day, optional showering, no lights except from the television from a Benny Hill marathon, and a blanket was my idea of giving thanks.

But nothing ever goes as planned, now does it?

 


	9. The Real Chapter Eight

Thanksgiving day was the most annoying. Several obligatory phone calls from home were reminders of how much fun I was missing watching Dad inappropriately follow recipes to his dishes and causing a last minute, but very expensive catering solution.

Mom also didn't miss a beat of scolding me on not getting some community service on my career resume by volunteering with the less fortunate since I had nothing better to do.

I called Jodie, who had decided not to go home either and spend the holidays with Mack there, but at the last minute he went back to Lawndale so she was on par with my frequency. She did most of the talking. I still wasn't up for sharing yet over the phone.

The rest of the days I slept in peace and slumber, until a knock came at the door Saturday, specifically late Saturday evening.

"Hey, Daria." a familiar voice said after I opened the door.

I was embarrassed. I looked bad enough to be a stand-in for Pigpen on a Peanuts Thanksgiving. "Trent? Come in." I said, nervously letting him in. Thank God I'm not a total slob so the house wouldn't be a mess on top of looking like I'm in recovery of a three-day hangover. "Where's Jane?" I said nervously taking his duffle bag.

"Lawndale. She's getting a ride back with Tom tomorrow." It figures.

"So, what are you doing here?" I said inquisitively and nervously moving my blanket so he could sit on the couch. "Excuse the mess, I wasn't expecting anybody."

"No worries. The band has a gig at the VFW tomorrow night in Philadelphia. Mostly cover songs from the seventies. I needed to get out of there after rehearsal and since it was, you know, in the neighborhood, I dropped by." he said almost whispering.

"Trent, Philadelphia is five hours away. That's more than in the neighborhood."

"The train ride helps me clear my mind."

"You took the train? You are studying the art of procrastination."

"I had a good teacher."

The thoughts of our last encounter alone together flood through my mind and kick my high anxiety up a notch to poster child for fidgeters. There is definitely an elephant in the room, and I keep bumping into it.

"How's life in the band treating you?"

"I think we're getting away from my art by playing for money. I was happier struggling."

"Well, Trent, money can't buy happiness but it can rent it month to month." We laugh.

I tell him to make himself at home and help himself to anything he wants in the fridge; outside of the stouts from his last visit, it's enough in there for a barren wasteland sandwich.

Since it was late and neither of us wanted to go be bothered with going out, we ordered in. We order enough pizza to feed starving children in third world countries. I feel guilty and glutinous to have him pay for it again, but that's the sacrifice of first world problems.

The television was still on, so we didn't have to talk much.

"Hey Daria, you mind if I wash up? It was a long trip." he asks, not looking away from the television.

"Uh, sure. Let me get you some clean towels."

Now, we haven't done my laundry in a good month, and I doubt there is a clean towel anywhere worth using for anything but cleaning, but hey, Febreeze makes grime smell better in national odor tests of lazy college kids, right?

I subconsciously heard him follow behind me, but I was so concentrated on towels and wasn't paying attention close enough attention to his movements. He startled me more than a predator would in jungle.

I dropped the towel. No big loss there blending in with more dirt.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you." he said picking up the towel off the floor. "You know Daria, we never did finish that conversation we had last time I was here."

That feeling just came back again that keeps reminding me I'm still human after all again.

"Which one might that be, Trent?" Nice job Morgendorffer playing stupid, stupid.

"The one about you hiding, you know, being sexy under all these clothes."

He's getting closer. Making his move. I'm cornered in the bathroom with nowhere to run. My back just hit the ledge by the window. Holy shit. Say something, Morgendorffer!

"I don't recall that, Trent."

Ugh. Lying is not my strong suit in a game of spades.

"Well, Daria," he says, "I can, you know, help you remember." Here we go again.

It's not exactly sexy making out in the bathroom, but I'll take what I can get. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! This feels hella good. Did I just really use hella in a sentence?

When we came up for air at halftime of tongue hockey, Trent started the shower. It took a while, but he got it nice and steamy. At least it's a good cover from sweating from nervousness.

He took his shirt off in no particular rush. Almost teasing, he ran his fingers around the borders of my sleeves.

"Say," he says in a whisper, "how about a shower?" He says stroking the front of my t-shirt, intentionally avoiding touching flesh. "No pressure."

"Uh, well, I don't know if I'm comfortable with that and all." I say scared shitless.

"C'mon, Daria. It's just a shower. No fooling around. C'mon. It will relax you." he says. "Nothing will go down unless you give me the word."

Slowly, he undressed until he was down to his birthday suit. That erection was big; hard enough to replicate a jackhammer, and even harder to ignore.

"Sorry about that, Daria. You turn me on so I'm, you know, excited." he says calmly.

"That's like being surprised if the Energizer bunny gets charged with battery."

Thanks to Jane, I'd seen a man nude before when I read her Playgirl Magazine junior year. It really was just for the article, but I couldn't help but look at the pictures in between the words.

Between that, my vivid imagination, and old biological annuals from the 1950s, I still wasn't prepared for the shock of the real thing.

And this was finally the real thing sans guesswork imagination wishful thinking.

He jumped into the shower without me; for what seemed like forever I stayed there and wondered what laid behind that curtain. It was more agonizing waiting for the mail to bring me my SAT scores.

"The water is just right. I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine."

Jodie says sometimes you just have to put your big girl bloomers on and go. Just my luck to have a reversal of fortune in this case.

A thousand thoughts of where this could go raced through my mind. I wasn't ready to go all the way, with anybody. Did he?

It was Trent, though. And it was something in how he said it made me trust he wouldn't betray any boundaries he wasn't invited into.

It's hard to make predictions, especially about the future.

 


	10. The Real Chapter Nine

Cleanliness is next to godliness. Maybe I should see what the other side is offering.

A lot of hyperventilated breaths helped me get my two pieces of clothes off and sheepishly in the shower. I was more silent that a tortured spy on the wrong side of enemy territory.

Not knowing what to do, I grabbed my face towel nervously and tried to busy myself soaping it up.

"Let me scrub you up first." he says, pressing his hands over my hands. "Turn around." I was never more thankful to turn away from him to hide any further embarrassment.

Trent kept his word. He took his time scrubbing me head to toe. It was more like replicating that scene in Karate Kid when Daniel is learning karate through manual labor.

He was nice enough to let me off the hook, but I felt like I had to own up to this one like a revolutionary facing the firing squad. I washed him backside first, and then washed him from the front from the same position as best I could.

My version of wax off, wax on, and painting the fence did him no favors.

At least he laughed when I touched him in certain unmentionable places like he was auditioning to be the Snuggles bear. Who would of thought Trent was ticklish?

That definitely helped lighten the mood. If at first you don't succeed, destroy all the evidence linking you to trying.

When the sordid human car wash was over and the drying had ceased, I couldn't wait to get back in the comfort of clothes to hide my shame. Trent had other ideas of his own.

"Hey, Daria. Keep your towel on for a minute. Follow me." he says, leading me to my room. "Lay down on the bed. I'll be right back."

This is becoming more involved than the Kennedy assassination.

I hear him rumbling though his bag like he's looting it for lost treasure. When he returns he has on pajama bottoms, much to my relief. He also has a bottle of what I assume is oil.

At least he takes preventative measures not to morph into scenes from a chalkboard.

I didn't imagine this morning when I woke up I'd be getting treated to a nude massage. I wonder if I didn't snag someone else's prince, who made a wrong turn and got lost here.

Trent's hands were awesome. Like watching a drunk Julia Child knead dough and placing bets on how they were going to come out. Not like I already hadn't had a preview.

I would be lying if I said it didn't turn me on. It damn well did; I ain't dead yet. But if I die and have to go to hell over this, I will be more than happy to drive the bus. He made me ache and throb in places that previously showed no signs of life, even with Tom.

Whatever liquid he was using to rub me down added a warm sensation and a fruit ambiance to match. Who would have ever guessed my first adult massage wouldn't involve physical therapy?

I'm not wise in the ways of massage etiquette, but the fight I was having against sleep was about to be a knockout.

"Is it okay we finish that conversation now?" Trent asks while still massaging my feet.

"Uh, I thought that is what we were doing." I say giggling like I'm inebriated.

"Well, there's just one more thing I need to get off my chest."

"What, vegetarians eat animal crackers?" Did I really just say that? I'm relaxed as hell.

"Not exactly." Trent resumes the oral fixation translation from our previous convo.

I'm a little less apprehensive about him in my personal space, but then that massage could make an atheist swear they saw God. I took deep breaths in between bouts of petty nervousness as he moved his way from my neck, to my mid drift, and then circled around my navel.

Nothing could have prepared me for that soft and wet feeling between my legs.

"Trent, wait, uh, what are you doing?" I jump up startled, trying to hide my surprising shame with my arms.

Tom barely just got to touch it, and now there is a tongue voyaging on it. There is a moment where I had to question myself whether or not this was his way of saying he's still hungry.

Still, it was a far stretch of the imagination to think anyone would want to do that to me.

"Relax," he says with such a cool demeanor, "We're just talking. The conversation will be over before you know it."

Words. Sounds. Feelings. Everything is swirling in a void around his tongue strokes.

Whatever it was happening down there was coming in waves. Just one after another, like a killer tsunami hell bent on swallowing an island. One built up after another until the waves crash and bring total destruction to all in its path.

I lost complete faculties of my central nervous system.

This was definitely different than fooling around with Tom, or even fooling around with him on my chest.

Breathe, Morgendorffer. I think Trent just brought on a mild epileptic seizure.

 


	11. The Real Chapter Ten

If this is an inside joke, I am definitely on the outside of things.

"Are you okay, Daria?" he says, still touching my shivering limbs.

This is as close to a heart attack as I ever want to be. I am also to embarrassed to ask him what just happened to make me lose complete control of my faculties and my dignity.

"I'm lost in a new territory of unfamiliar thought. No big thing." I say out of breath.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Jury is still out on that one but so far it feels great.

"Nothing is broken from what I can tell." I say, trying to stop my thighs from mimicking a cell phone vibrating.

"I really like hanging out with you and wouldn't mind doing it again."

Oh I bet you would, Trent. I just bet you would. No need to be coy. You've seen the promise land now, damn it.

"Um, ditto." I feel like the Borg have assimilated me and resistance is futile.

"So maybe when I'm in town we could hang out, you know, without Janie. Just us."

When am I going to learn sharing things of Jane's is not good? Where's my self-control?

"That's cool. But as friends though, right?"

Denial is the social contract of reality.

"Right." he says smiling in confirmation. "Good friends."

Trent took that as an open invitation to pick up where he left off. Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once I guess. Whatever doubt that was in my mind about engaging in this act of intimacy battled diligently against carnal lust. Silence is golden but moaning is involuntary.

There was no pressure, but with Trent being older, more experienced, and a musician, I was still scared shitless. I truly had no clue what to do and that bothered me more than anything.

At the very least based on his skill set, I'd be crazy not to think he hasn't had sex. In this game I'm still a rookie. It's only been a few weeks since I got off the plate from first to third base.

"Wait, Trent. Stop a minute." I said trying to fight the feelings of him doing what he's doing. As good as this feels, I'm still not ready to slide home, and I don't want him to think I'm a tease trying to.

"Did I do something wrong, Daria?" he says concerned.

"Look, this is going fast for me and I'm not trying to lead you on or anything to, you know." I said, before he interrupted me.

"I know. Hey, it's okay. I'm still not going any further than you let me."

I don't even know how far I'm going to let him. Limits aren't exactly my strong suit right now, considering where we at and where we've been on this ride. And I know he knows I know he loves taking rides.

I mean, when Tom said something similar, I ran from him like he was a xenomorph. It was easy to tell him no because I just wasn't ready or feeling him.

When Trent says it, my mind and body unify like communists reading the manifesto.

Damn you, hormones. Just damn you.

I was nervous when he turned off the light. Children in the dark makes accidents. Accidents in the dark make children. Ask Jane. But he kept his lower extremities away from mine.

That made me feel more comfortable to forge ahead. That, or the new memory foam I got for my mattress was really worth the money.

I, Daria Morgendorffer, am officially fooling around with a grown man. Time to get out the 'Come Hither' stilettoes now. Cynicism just isn't helping me right now, are they?

Under the cover of pleasurable darkness, I combine touch with the sight from the bathroom and do bold explorations on my own after him. Tom never gave me that kind of confidence.

He also didn't give me this newfound spasmic release I'm still figuring out either.

Sleep came quite silent and unexpected, like an assassin that alerts people of their presence before they snipe you. I slept a sleep of defeat like Poland surrendering to the Nazis.

My trembling thighs and curiously throbbing midsection woke me up.

Waking up brought the unfamiliar feeling of dead weight on my chest. For a second I thought I fell asleep with the Encyclopedia Britannica again. Nope. It was Trent's head sprawled on the fun bags. He spent the night with me. He wasn't the first man to do that, at least.

He is the first to be in my bed, under my cover, lying beside my naked body, though. That bulge in his pants was also something new on the slideshow too.

I felt the bad kind of sticky dirty, so I got up and took a shower and threw comfort clothes on. Even after last night, I just needed to hide in a t-shirt and jogging pants.

He was up by the time I was done. After peeping me staring at his crotch, he excused himself to the bathroom to take care of it. Whatever he did, it was noticeably absent after he came out of the shower.

No idea what that means and in no rush to find out right about now.


	12. The Real Chapter Eleven

Trent's train going back to Philadelphia wasn't until the evening, but he was leaving early to make sure he didn't run into Jane by accident on the way out.

Maybe this is what Jodie is always talking about. A friend with optional benefits.

I thought it was going to be weird being around him after the fact, but it was surprisingly normal. We watched some television, ate cold pizza, and talked about his schedule and my classes.

Mystik Spiral got booked up and down the East Coast at corresponding schools until the end of the school year, so he'd be in the neighborhood a little more regular next semester.

Most of the gigs, to his disgruntlement were for fraternities, sororities, and student union mixers. The money was great, even if he did have to play for spring lovers crushing cans on their foreheads.

We even talked about Malik, since Jane was so nice to mention to Trent we were dating, as if I were locked in a bell tower and finally given freedom. Trent was cool about the whole thing, and didn't ask any prying questions, unlike his sister.

He was very supportive of getting out in the world to live. But hey, evil is just live spelled backwards. There are positive and negatives in any equation.

"Hey, Daria. Before I go, here's something to make sure the fridge is full." he says, putting ten twenty dollar bills in my hand. "I'd go shopping, but I don't have the time." he smiles.

"Trent, really. You don't have to. We're okay." I said, trying to give it back.

"Next time I'll get in early and we can take care of that. Janie won't mind."

College kids and free food are a damnnation to hell, I tell you.

And just like that he was back on the road again. I humped to get apartment clean and erase any traces of his footsteps being there. I'm starting to feel like an under glorified groupie. My mind is blown, like a hydrogen bomb over Hiroshima blown.

I want to talk to somebody but my options are really limited. I can't bring myself to tell Jane all about it. She'd be hurt I didn't tell her when it first started, and then it's just weird because it is her brother. Automatically that's too much info. I'd tell Jodie, but my thoughts aren't together to take that type of truth yet, either.

If I could just get a few days to myself to internalize everything in solitude I would be good. Even if the voices in my head aren't real, they still have pretty good ideas on situations. Jane busting in the apartment like a banshee with a crack addiction definitely drowns them out.

She's pissed that the Lane family reunion was a bust, pissed at Trent for ditching her as his ride, and skipping the holidays. Definitely strikes out me telling her he was here.

Then she's pissed at having to grit and bear Tom's detoured navigation.

"God, Daria, I hate him so much but he's old reliable. Don't you just miss him?"

"Sure I miss him. I miss him a lot. My aim is improving though."

And this is just the first two hours of our conversation.

Jane wasted no time trying to forget the past and get back in the saddle again, and dragging me alongside her. Out of guilt I passively allowed myself to go. Of course she didn't miss a beat picking up guys she didn't know and running off with those she assumed had potential while leaving me behind for the greater good of humanity.

I'd think her picture would look good on a milk carton.

The walk home alone did me good. Being in seedier parts of town at night previously known for the Boston Strangler always lightens a heavy load off your shoulders.

After navigating the outer layers of previously undiscovered hell, I make it home only to find Jane entertaining company in her three ring circus of a bedroom.

It's eight o'clock. I just can't take this. Not right now. I have classes, I have flashbacks, I have a scratch and sniff that smells like root bear about to wear out. I need a vacation.

I make two phone calls.

"Hey, Jodie. Daria."

"Oh, hey Daria. What's up."

"Are you busy, I really need to talk to someone."

"It's a good time, go ahead."

"No, I mean in person. Can I come for a couple of days? I know its last minute."

"No problem. Come on. When are you planning on being here?"

"Two hours."

"Must be a real humdinger then. See you soon." I'm really thankful that went well.

Now for phone call number two.

"Hey Tom, Daria. Are you busy? Are you sober?"

"Depends on who's dictionary we go by. What can I do you for?"

"Well, I need a favor."

When life gives me lemons, Tom sometimes makes great lemonade.

 


	13. The Real Chapter Twelve

With little fanfare, I packed my book bag and got the hell out of there. Closed my door so Jane wouldn't even suspect I'd be gone this week if she'd bothered to notice.

Tom came through for once without distraction and we were at Turner by eleven o'clock. He even offered to pick me up whenever I wanted to get back.

Tom options are false senses of security, but I'm taking my chances.

Jodie lived in a co-ed dorm, in one of the bigger suites with a private bath, so I wasn't worried about sleeping on a pallet in the closet like last time. She had one small room and her roommate had the other small room while sharing the bathroom. No kitchen.

She watching out for my arrival, so I didn't even have to knock.

"Daria. I didn't really think you were coming. Come on in."

"I would have been here earlier but my broomstick was in the shop."

"I told you years ago to upgrade to a shovel. More durability with excellent foot room." We laugh. It's just like old times. "You remember my roommate Sandra?"

Sandra waved without looking up from her room. Well on her way to winning hospitality of the year.

Jodie goes to a historic black college, so to keep from too many questions being answered, she tells everybody I'm her very mulatto cousin. While Jodie says its Dr. King's dream, I don't think passing for black was what he had in mind on strengthening race relations in the states.

"Sorry to barge in on you like this. I just needed a break."

"So what did Jane do this time?" she says chuckling.

"Don't you mean who?"

"Well, damn then. Moving on." she says laughing.

I decide due to mental anguish to just call it a night. The next morning, I email all of my teachers and explain I've had a death in the immediate family Sunday and am on my way to Texas to bury grandma.

Ok, it's wrong but grandma doesn't actually know I exist so I'm theoretically dead to her.

Jodie doesn't have any Monday classes, so she's spared from elaborate gerrymandering.

We have breakfast and just hang back and pass the morning away watching movies.

"So what do you want to do for lunch, Daria?"

"Talk, eat, and drink Irish stouts."

"Since when have you started drinking?" she says in awe.

"Right around the time I let my best friend's brother have his way with me on my couch."

The look on Jodie's face was absolutely priceless.

"You? You can't be serious. When did all that go on?"

"The first weekend of school."

Jodie sat up in full undivided attention, and raised her eyebrow curiously to the heavens.

"Okay, slut. Let me make some phone calls and see who can do a liquor run."

After ordering food and making a run with some upper classmen for a couple cases of stouts, we get nice and buzzed on her floor.

"I can give you money, I brought some with me." Trent did give it to me for groceries, and beer is made from vegetables so technically I did grocery shop. Just stop, Daria.

"Don't worry about it. You're my guest. It's been awhile since we've hung out anyway."

"Well at least let me give you this." I reach in my bag and hand her that bundle of weed I stole from Tom.

"Holy shit, Daria. Did you get that from Jane?" she says, smelling it just like Tom did.

"No, I stole that from my ex after he exposed to me his idiocracy."

"Are you guys still talking _like that_?"

"Only if you count it as charity work with the learning disabled."

"You want to smoke? I bet this is some good shit since he's rich."

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing. You know how to do this?"

Jodie jumps up and closes her door, stuffing towels under it. After digging in her footlocker, she gets some little square sheets of paper that look like what goes on hair rollers.

In an immaculate process, she neatly crumbles the buds and rolls them in a cylinder fashion until it looks like a pixie stick, licking it along the way.

"I really hope you don't have mononucleosis cooties."

"So says the woman going for tonsil hockey rookie of the year."

She lights it and takes one big breath and exhales before passing it to me.

"I thought only desperate people smoke weed for attention."

"Something tells me that the story you're about to tell classifies you in that category."

The truth hurts. Weed makes it feel all better.

 


	14. The Real Chapter Thirteen

Weed I now see to be, in general, the language of the unrepressed; for which reason I have long since as good as renounced it. It also provokes the inner cookie snob buried deep in us all. That damn cream filling is just so damn delicious. Has it always been like this? I'm so stoned.

Something in this little tiny stick made me loosen up enough to purge my soul without the smart ass comments about my semester indiscretions. Add it up to the list of firsts, damn it.

"Wow, Daria. The worm has definitely turned for you my friend."

"Is there still hope for me having a life at the convent, sheltered from the world?"

Another broken outpour of unadulterated weed induced laughter. Feels relieving.

"Only if Trent is planning on joining the parish." Feels good to laugh at myself.

"I'm serious, Jodie. I have no idea what the hell is going on."

"All right then. Let's review the facts. In one semester you got caught up and unleashed your inner freak, became a lightweight alcoholic, and a pothead due to men."

"I wouldn't say that. Just put my toenail in the waters of life is more like it."

"Try two whole damn legs." We both fall out laughing again. "C'mon, you have got freaky sneaky with Trent on multiple occasions this semester including letting him go down on you and giving you your first orgasm. You are really one lucky bitch in this room right now."

"Who said anything about an orgasm? When did that happen?"

"You were there Daria, you tell me. That seizure you thought you was having wasn't a seizure. That was, you know, the big IT."

"And all this time I thought it was a mild form of undiagnosed epilepsy."

"I can see how you would confuse the two with uncontrollable shaking and letting him swallow your tongue."

"Maybe it's the voices in my head warming up their vocal chords."

"And speaking of head," she says laughing, "How did you like it? Must have been deep."

"The experience was a constant reminder of the biological vulnerabilities of womanhood."

"Oh, so it was off the chain?" I deeply blush out of embarrassment and look away.

"It was better than that." I say mumbling. Jodie still gives me a high five for it.

"You do know Trent's trying to turn you out and deep down you're happy as hell about it."

"I am not familiar with your language preference. Please translate and try again."

"Are you really going to play me like that when you know damn well just thinking about what he did to you got you over there sitting in wet panties?"

"I will neither confirm nor deny my innocence in that line of questioning."

High or not, that did make me just a tad bit embarrassed because she's right.

"Live a little. He's not exactly a stranger; more like waiting on the chance to catch you slipping, which you now know is easy to do with the right orated defense."

"Hey," I say trying to defend myself. "I wasn't slipping. My guard was up, damn it."

"Maybe. But he definitely knocked those sugar walls down to ground zero now didn't he? Oh, and up under his sister's nose while he was batting a thousand."

"Touché, you bitch. Touché." Just remember, she's laughing with me and not at me.

Thank God Tom didn't cut corners on quality or this might have been a hard conversation.

"Daria, admit it. You get horny just like the rest of us lurking in the lustful shadows. It's perfectly normal. It's not like you haven't wanted Trent since high school to begin with."

"I cannot tell a lie high. I did not want Trent nigh. We are just friends."

Jodie laughs, which makes me laugh, and we take turns laughing.

"You're not fooling anybody chick. Least of all me. But be honest with yourself. As good as it felt it made you afraid." I hate when she's right, even completely stoned.

"Um yeah. It was just so overwhelming, addictive and in the moment. I don't do in the moment. Are you hungry?" Amazing how I can smell the open cookies sitting right there on her dresser just as clear as day. Good to know the green can open extra sensory abilities.

"And you're scared you'll get hurt if you go all the way with him, right?"

Mood change alert; changing to the ultrasensitive version of me. I never knew thoughts had color. Looks like they been playing in the purple crayons too long.

"Eyes on your own damn paper, Landon."

"You didn't answer the question, Morgendorffer."

"What do you want me to say? I don't want to strain my relationship with Jane any further. That he's a musician and he's older and probably got groupies all over every nook and cranny. Sigh. All I know is that I just don't want to be messed up over any of this."

"Ok, let's call out the obvious. Trent is not marriage material by a longshot. He definitely is not the kind of guy you date and expect to be available."

"Neither am I. I'm not looking for a significant other to have to keep up with."

"Right. But Trent's a pretty good guy in the interim for practice purposes."

"Yes, but I don't move that fast. What if he thinks I'm playing games or something?"

"I don't think that's a concern of his right now. Look at his patience level right now to keep you comfortable so you don't run from him like you did Tom. I mean, he was ground zero for that. He'll wait for your terms of agreement."

"How can you be so sure? I'm not even sure."

"Daria, let the record show that man has illustrated he has a plan. He knows exactly what he is going to do to you and at what pace. Trust me. He's more together than Tom."

"Geez, Tom. He gets on my nerves. I can't believe what happened with that."

"Well, to be honest Daria, I saw that coming. Ray Charles saw that one coming.

"Now that I wish I could take back. It was okay, but nothing on the level of greatness."

"That one, my friend, I have to exercise some tough love on. You should have let him finger bang you back in high school and already over that hump so you could be immune to that low blow."

"Do you even know what that even feels like?"

"Ask Mack and see what he says." she says laughing.

"I mean the self-judgment of having low substandard morals beneath your taste."

"Happens to the best of us in compromising situations. That's why God invented vodka and condoms. Just be careful though. He might be sleeping with Jane on the sideline and that could get ugly all over again. You two already have bumped heads over him before."

"She has been acting Spanish inquisition about him lately."

"Neither one of them really can be trusted no farther than you can throw them. Your love triangle was wild back then. All he might be good for is a quick finger fuck in between Trent visits to release some tension. Don't let it go farther than that. Give that back to God."

"It's not really good enough to care about calling him for that. And to think in all of this I'm casually dating a nerd with no designs on me."

"Yeah, Malik. Forgot about him. Didn't think you were into black scientists like that."

"Revenge of the Nerds totally killed any interest in future acknowledgment of a white nerd pocket protector population for me."

"Well, of all of your men he has the greatest potential. You need to watch out though. That's who is going to bust your cherry."

"We have cherries? I could eat some of those that go in the cherry coke right now."

"Daria, bust your cherry, as in losing your virginity. Jesus, take the wheel."

"It can really bust? Am I going to need surgery? Did I leave it on Jesus' wheel? Man that is unhygienic." I laugh so hard I break wind. I mean I couldn't even hold it in it was that funny.

"Just put your head down. You are just showing out now." The laughter is loud for real.

"Jodie, you're seeing things. Dating Malik is like dating a Shaolin Monk that took the vow of everything you can do in the world. No touching not even by accidental bumping. I don't even think of him like that."

"You lie through your teeth Daria Morgendorffer. You could almost scream take me when you having one of those hot passionate courting sessions over protons, neutrons, and atoms."

"Yeah, I could scream alright. Keeps me awake from the boredom."

"I'm telling you, he's going to come out of a bag on you when you least expect it and catch you off guard, just like Trent did. Your curiosity is going to get the better of you and he is going to take your number."

"Thank you for proving marijuana really is the gateway drug to alternative thought."

"Make jokes, but mark my words. It's going to blow your mind how good it's going to be."

"So it's not going to be like salt pouring over an open wound?"

"Who told you that nonsense? she said, sharing the cookies. These are the best things ever!

"My illustrious mother in our pre-collegiate sex education workshop."

"I'd expect better from a lawyer than spreading around falsehoods. Oh, wait?"

Laugh and the world laughs with you, but only if you're stoned. Then the laughter gives way to introspection and sadness, which is where my mighty mood swing has swung me to now.

"Jodie, I have reservations about all of this. What if I become intimate with a guy and I do it all wrong? What if I break something on him, or me? I don't want to be a bad lay."

"There's nothing wrong with feeling like that, but your first time is not going to be the highlight of your sex life even in the best of circumstances. It takes a lot to relax and enjoy yourself when you're thinking about how you look, how you sound, contraceptive effectiveness, diseases."

"So I shouldn't hold out for the guy to take lead in the trek of the undiscovered country?"

"Guys are not the best decision makers when it comes to sex. I lost my virginity junior year at Mack's house on the basement couch with his parents roaming the house."

"You like living whorishly dangerously, don't you?"

"Doesn't get any worse than that but it was a turn on, don't ask me why. It took us two hours to figure out how to put the square pegs in the round hole in between playing lookout in case his parents came downstairs. Spontaneity gets better the more you get comfortable."

"Did it, you know, hurt? Jane said it hurt for her."

"Every situation is different. I didn't have any pain because I was as wet as a waterpark. Mack put the work in from beginning to end."

"Well sliding down an eight-foot slide can be labor intensive endeavor to navigate."

"Just remember you need a lot of sticky water to power that first ride. It can hurt if you don't have a sensitive lover taking his time and listening to your body non-verbal, because we both know you're not saying shit if you don't have to."

"Trent's very patient and slow like that."

"Maybe he can give Malik a crash course, then." she says as we break up laughing. "You got any questions? A chick has to be prepared for these womanly things."

"I thought you said you wouldn't divulge your intimacies until after your parents died."

"Well just act like they went on to glory this afternoon. So what do you want to know?"

"Everything."

And she did give me a reeducated sex education class. I really have to be careful what I ask for because I might just hear it.

I'm really going to have to get some more green leaves from Tom.

 


	15. The Real Chapter Fourteen

Riding the bus back is a miserable, but educational experience. At least I’m learning new words in the English language. You never fully learn the proper application of curse words in sentences until you are trapped in a tin can with an unflushed toilet that goes slow as bumper cars.

This week was productive. Jodie helped me feel a bit more comfortable about my advance stage puberty adjustments. I am woman, not ready to roar, but can admit purring from being petted has been nice. I’m ready for Animal Planet now.

All in all, this bus ride allows me to reflect once again how growing pains suck. It wasn’t a selling point when it was a 1980s television show, and it isn’t winning a following now.

What happened to the old me? The one who questioned why is love blind when so many keep buying lingerie. It’s hard to admit a part of her moved on and left a wanton slut in its place.

Not like she hadn’t been rearing her ugly head since I first made out with Tom in his car.

Now look at me. Cutting class, skipping town a week on a moment’s notice. Well, at least I can still run away from some of my problems. My plans of hanging out were supposed to be three days, but laying all my burdens down turned into a full week. We made the most of it in and out of her class schedule and social commitments.

My popularity got a boost when we mutually decided to take advantage of the power of capitalism by relieving ourselves of a generous amount of Tom’s confiscated stash. That produced enough wealth to ensure I went back with more money than I left with, Jodie’s cut, plus extra for hanging out. A journey of a few hundred miles always begins with a cash forfeiture.

I’m ready to flex my street cred in the hood when I get back to Lawndale now.

While I came to get some things off my chest, Jodie had her own male drama to vent as well. Her and Mack were struggling to stay together in a long distance relationship. Freshmen year had been hard on both of them as neither were exactly celibate on their respective campuses.

By this time, Jodie started up with a graduate student around Trent’s age and now juggling two guys. It didn’t bother her that she was in a long distance relationship triangle. Or the fact that the guy was older and white at a predominately black campus.

She was mad because he was the best lover she had ever had, and Mack paled in comparative boredom. That’s like having a PBS mind in a MTV world stuck on bad reruns.

I’m not even there yet to understand fully what the difference is lover to lover, so I just let her have the moment. After meeting Wilhelm, I somewhat got what she was talking about. He looks at her a lot like Trent looks at me; the hunter stalking the prey.

Unlike me though, Jodie seems to lure him into the lair more than he stalks.

Now Wilhelm was no great shakes as a looker to me, and not even to her, but nostalgia of cute guys ain’t what it used to be. What he lacked in looks he made up in other ways because Wilhelm definitely had her sprung, as she would call it. Sounds like a post graduate promising career modeling coil patterns for Slinky to me.

Even so, this week we reached our full conclusion about everything. And in keeping with the definition, we truly are just tired of thinking about all of it. Gossip when we get home though, is fair game. Coming into Boston, I was alright. Well, outside of pneumonia from the cold.

Jane was in the living room working on some crazy art piece when I got home.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Daria, back from running away from home.”

“I guess the roaches will make me their leader now that I understand their plight.”

“So, how’s Jodie. Big frat party or just drunken kegger off campus.”

“I see the bird in your ear told you where I was at. Technically, that doesn’t make me lost.”

“Or wait, was it grandma’s funeral?”

“A shame her casket flung open right as it was lowered into the ground.”

“Uh, huh. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Not really. I’m just practicing for my life as a future jack in the box artist. A random pop out saying boo just doesn’t have the same effect on the horror generation.”

“There’s some messages on your door from your stalker fan club.”

Besides teachers checking in to make sure I was okay in my time of bereavement, Malik called a few times, as did my parents probably because they heard about this time of loss.

I unpacked, took a nice hot bath, and called it a night. It’s been a nice vacation from hell. Fire kindling starts bright and early at sunrise. Early to bed, early to rise. Makes most people suspicious. I know Jane is.

Doesn’t it just feel so good to be back home?

 


	16. The Real Chapter Fifteen

End of the semester. My favorite time of year. An uneventful reminder of how disconnected I am from the atypical collegiate experience. Finals give me little cause for alarm, so I magically avoided the caffeinated binges of the rest of the campus with the last minute jitters.

Oh, well. Guess I'll have to figure out how to simulate a coke binge some other way.

The only conundrum finals give me is biological. My damn period rears its ugly head in mockery at the start of first exams. Hasn't changed since the eighth grade. Nice to know my academic clock and my ovaries are synced to the beat of the same drum.

Outside of attempting to supply the blood bank, I was hoping Malik would occupy my cramping time. Unfortunately, his major had him pretty busy so we were only able to compare notes of the mental breakdown of our academic peers under pressure over quick meals.

Our flunk pool is pretty deep with winter break washouts waiting on their discharge. While I find it deplorable to relish in the joy of an idiot freeing up space for one that wishes to use their brain for something other than pledging, Malik is offering five to one odds.

A little part of me is looking forward to going home. It's only a couple of weeks. That's enough nostalgia to remember why I had to leave that dump for bigger and dirtier dumps.

I'd be a hypocrite if I said I wasn't looking forward into running into Trent by accident while there. I guess it's just my dumb luck that Jane's parents each got contract work out of the country at the last minute. Or that Trent was on the road again.

Jane decided to hang back and have Christmas in Boston and celibacy continues.

I felt kind of bad at the thought of her alone eating half cooked noodles from the microwave, so I extended the offer for her to come and join in the torture ritual fun at my house. Can't blame her for turning me down.

I'm not exactly giddy about facing my father's culinary holiday experimentations, or being forced to listen to hours of carolers sing out of tune holiday cheer without a bag of rotten eggs handy. It's just not for everyone. At least I'd have my familiar family routine and a reason to hide.

Or so I thought.

I arrive to a desolate house where not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. There was no familiar carnage of kitchen disasters gone terribly wrong, nor the nagging nature of my parents and siblings to warmly greet me by the door.

Isn't this just a dream deferred.

With everyone gone about their day, I'm left alone and once again on my own. It's eerie and nerve wracking walking that long mile up to my room. Mom has been threatening to remodel it for years and I'm hoping she hasn't decided to stop procrastinating now.

Everything is just like I left it. That schizophrenic shut in just doesn't know what a masterpiece he inspired when they created this work of wall cushion art.

Around six o'clock the bodies began piling into the house. To my surprise, I was more than a blip on their radar. After the initial grandstanding of resurfacing praise, everybody went back to their daily routine without a second thought.

Imagine, after all that hell about missing Thanksgiving, my presence now is received as well as devout atheists bringing presents for a baptismal.

Mom couldn't tear herself a whole five minutes from phone time with Eric.

Quinn couldn't tear herself away from whatever crisis was going on at the Fashion Club to get ready for some date with Joey, Jeffy, or just plain stupid.

Dad couldn't stop belittling himself for taking low morality clients peddling goods destined to cause a national plague.

Not exactly the warm welcome I had in mind, so off to my room I go again.

Being the week of Christmas, I made no plans to go anywhere and do anything.

The first three mornings I slept in until the middle of the afternoon. While that wasn't originally my plan, being in the familiar grooves of a nice mattress really gave me a good sleep.

Since everybody was so busy, breakfast was not worth turning up for. No one ever really say down for that meal anyway and I'd just be me reading the paper. I'd be up by lunch and could catch them for dinner. Meal attire consisted of flannel pajamas with matching cotton socks.

Everything was inconspicuously comfy and boring cozy until Christmas Eve.

Around 8:00a.m., the guards at the prison threw open my curtains to let the blindly sun shine on me. All that was missing was a baton to a metal garbage can.

"Good morning, Daria. I need you to get up and come downstairs. Your father and I would like to talk to you over breakfast."

"Um, can we talk later, I'm not really awake yet."

"Now, unless you want me to throw cold water towels on your face. You have five minutes."

Waterboarding is not the best sign of the best day ever.

After going to the bathroom and getting functional enough to remember which way leads to the kitchen, I find everyone's up, perky, and chipper. At 8:00 a.m.

"Hi, kiddo. Freshly mixed Orange Juice?" Dad says way too chipper for my taste.

"Ugh, gross Dad. It's got all those sugars and artificial chemicals that makes your face break out." Of course Quinn the foundation queen would be on a zit hunt this early.

"Why the hell am I up this early? We could have done this at dinner."

"Daria, all you've done since you got here is sleep." says Mom.

"No I haven't. I've also watched a great deal of television, read a few old books, and signed up for a Radio Free Europe."

"I'm serious, Daria." And that is what worries me.

"How would you know what I do, you all are gone living your lives when I'm here all day."

"You're not going to waste the day away when you can be helping others to get volunteer work on your post graduate resume. I've signed you up to go and serve food for the homeless today."

"You did WHAT?"

"I told Mr. O'Neil that you would be available to help him down at the shelter by ten this morning."

"This is a joke, right? You got me out of bed for this?"

"Employers like to see vibrant service oriented adults Daria, not bed slugs."

"Good job Mom, it isn't fair she gets to waste her vacation away doing nothing."

"Give me a break Quinn. Hanging at the mall is not exactly scholarly work."

"On the contrary, The Fashion Club is volunteering a clothes drive this week alone."

"See Daria, Quinn understands the merit of volunteer work on her academic record." says Mom trying to compare apples and oranges.

"If my academic record doesn't speak enough for itself to convince an employer I'm a great candidate, and they have to be convinced of my work ethic by time consuming activities that hinder a social condition for the sake of justifiable profit and a feel good ending for everyone but the miserable, they are not the type of employer I would want to work for anyway."

"Daria, it shows team building, kiddo. That you're good on your toes." Dad says.

"Look, you sabotaged me like this during the summer before senior year, and would have did it last year had I not stayed and taken summer classes. This is not happening again. Find somebody else. I'm going back to sleep." I say, getting up from the table.

"Daria, sit down! You are going. You have a commitment and you're going to see it through." says Mom, completely ignoring me.

"No. You have a commitment. I didn't sign up for this, you did. So you waste your day feeding people in your free time. Mine right now is between the cover and pillow."

"Gee, Daria. It's really insensitive you don't want to go down and feed the homeless."

"Shut up, Quinn and quit instigating. That has nothing to do with it."

"Don't talk back to me, young lady. You're going!" says Mom, challenging me.

"I'm nineteen years old, about to be a third year in college with my own apartment. You can't dictate to me what I have to do."

"Jake, say something to your daughter." Like Dad knows how to give support backup.

"Don't talk to your mother like that, Daria." Dad pipes in reluctantly.

"You guys are hypocrites. You're barely here because you're too busy with pet projects and then are mad because I choose not to have that burden of responsibility. That doesn't give you the right to force me to be like you."

"You're running out of time with this arguing. Go get dressed. You're due there at ten." Mom says adamantly.

"Did you hear what I just said? I'm not GOING."

"This is still my house Daria, and in this house you will do what I say and follow my rules."

"Well guess what, I don't have to be here under your roof in your house. I have an apartment."

I take my exit and go to my room.

"Don't you walk away from me like that, Daria. Do you hear me?" Everybody follows me to my room like a bad dinner theater performance on a revolving stage. "This is it Daria, no back talking. Get ready so you can meet Mr. O'Neil. Then after, your signed up to take the young carol ensemble around the neighborhood to sing Christmas carols."

"Sucks to be you Daria. I did that last year, and people can be brutal. Wear a full body poncho so the tomatoes don't mess up your clothes." Quinn chimes in from the background.

"Oh so there's even MORE after a boring afternoon with Timothy O'Neil. I don't believe this. Well, I guess you're going to have to change your plans at the office and fill in, because I'll be right here in the bed."

Mom takes all of my cover and snatches it off the bed, pillow too. "You're grounded, Daria. Now get up and get dressed like I told you." she says throwing everything on the floor.

"You can't ground me. Are you serious? Not happening."

"Either you do what I tell you or get out of this house."

I'm calling her bluff in episodic bliss. I'm packing my bags. The look on Mom's face was priceless.

"Say, Daria, what are you doing?" Dad asks inquisitively.

"I'm packing my stuff and going back to Boston, now."

"If you walk out that front door, that's it. There's no coming back so you better take all of your belongings with you now." Mom says in proud achievement, as if she's won something.

"Fine. I'm tired of this aggravation anyway."

"Whoa, this just got real intense. Mom, come on, you can't kick Daria out."

"Quinn go to your room before you're grounded!" Mom says defiantly.

"Uh, Helen, I think you're taking this a little too far. If Daria just wants to relax on her vacation here at the house, maybe we should let her."

"Shut up, Jake. Give me support on this."

"No, I'll take my stuff and leave, right now. I'm an adult. I'm not taking this anymore."

"Well since you're such an adult from here on out you will be responsible for your education and all additional costs at Raft, by yourself." Says Mom smug.

"I already do that now. I have financial aid remember? But I'll make sure to get you your couple bucks back for that month's supply of noodles." I say throwing all my stuff in a bag.

"Well Daria, since you want to be stubborn, I tell you what. Either you are on your way to the shelter in an hour, or you're gone in an hour. Your choice.

"I'll have all my stuff moved out in an hour."

Mom left the room, and Dad followed behind her bickering about her harshness. In the meantime, I had to swallow my pride and pick up the phone.

Damn it to hell I hope someone answers me. Merry fucking Christmas.

 


	17. The Real Chapter Sixteen

Left Aunt Amy a message; she could at least get to me in two hours. Nobody answered at Casa Lane. The servants at the Sloane mansion said Tom was already en route to the Cove. Jodie was on her way out, but stopped everything to come and collect me.

After explaining the absurdity of the situation, she dropped her morning plans and had Mack come over and move my stuff out. Everything that I wanted plus my bags from school took right at an hour to get packed and loaded.

Mom didn't even stick around to see what my decision was going to be, as she had to run into the office and handle something. Dad had stormed off somewhere and couldn't be found. So I left my house keys with Quinn.

"Daria, are you really leaving, I mean, for real?"

"Make sure you give Mom the keys back to her house. There's no need to change the locks."

"You're going to call and stuff, and check on things, right?"

"See you later, Quinn. Have fun."

And just like that, I was an independent.

To my shock, Jodie's parents were more than accommodating for me to stay a couple of nights until I could get back to Boston. Of course, since they were adamant volunteer junkies we failed to tell them the true nature of the falling out.

And just like that, my entire life was in boxes sitting in her garage.

When we got all my stuff situated at her place I told Jodie to go off with Mack, since it was still the morning. I could catch up on some sleep while they went off for their rendezvous. With her parents gone to a charity event, I didn't have to ask too many questions and I could still try Aunt Amy and get a ride back to school.

When she came back, she had Irish Stouts and sordid details of her romp. Ho. Ho. Ho.

"I can't believe you got kicked out day before Christmas." she says, passing me a cold one.

"And all I wanted was my two front laptops and a new spindle of discs."

"You never do anything. I mean, even when you were grounded that one time it was unbelievable. You're a good kid. Maybe she'll change her mind and you two can work it out."

"Not likely. Sigh. This was long overdue anyway. I should have just stayed in Boston."

"Well, at least you don't have to be bothered with coming home for summer vacation and stuck on the barge with Mr. O'Neil at that camp for sensitive kids."

"Don't remind me. That never happened." Jodie proposes a mock toast to me.

"Well, here's to your divorce from your parental units. We all aren't able yet."

Yet I seem to be the only one willing to do it with the confidence of Ronald Reagan.

Aunt Amy got a hold of me the next day. Instead of exchanging presents around the tree, we were headed down the highway back to Boston. A Christmas to remember.

Per my request, she didn't go over to my house to try to work it out with Mom. The hassle just was not worth the mental torment of those two arguing with more than I cared to listen to.

It was pretty silent going down the highway. Aunt Amy didn't impose on my thoughts, and I didn't offer that much conversation outside of requests for bathroom breaks.

We got in pretty late that night as the weather turned snowy slushy on us halfway there and slowed up our driving time. Jane was stretched out like I was during Thanksgiving, and was shocked to see us barging in with plenty of my things.

And just like I thought, she was eating noodles on Christmas.

"Well, if it isn't Thelma and Louise. Coming to hide out from the law? Do I need to get mattresses over the windows?"

"I see your award winning personality hasn't changed much." says Aunt Amy. "Think you can give us a hand."

"Why, I sure can." Jane stands up and gives a roaring applause.

"I'm going to get some more of your stuff out the car while you deal with that." Aunt Amy says, leaving us up here.

"Tough room."

"No. Did my Mom call since I've been gone?"

"Nope. But what brings you back so soon? Jake set fire to the kitchen again and it was off to another hotel?"

My mother kicked me out of the house, but I'm sure Dad still has time to catch something ablaze before the carolers start."

"Yeah, right. Get serious."

"I'm not joking. She signed me up for a volunteer day at the homeless without asking me, and Mr. O'Neil."

"She tried to break you and feed your soul to the idiots, I tell you."

"When I refused, she gave me the 'my house, my rules' spill and then when I started packing to leave, she gave me the choice to do what she said and waste my sleep hours or leave."

"Wow. That's heavy. Took the house keys too?"

"I just left them with Quinn."

"So you're homeless in Lawndale because you wouldn't feed the Lawndale homeless?"

"More like disinherited. I'm only my own for school and this apartment."

"But I thought you already were on financial aid because Helen wanted you to learn the value of your education?"

"I am, but come the summer, I'm going to need to be able to cover rent here. Home, sweet home now."

"Jane. Daria. You two need to come and get this stuff before the street urchins do it for you and try to sell it back retail."

After getting settled, Aunt Amy decided to stay the night, so she could be rested for the drive back in the morning. However, most of her night was spent on the phone arguing with Mom for being like Grandma. Great plan there.

Somehow in between that, I called Jodie to thank her for sheltering the wayward bastard stepchild. I'll have to bring some more of Tom's stash when I go back up there.

Jane and I talked into the night. Really talked to each other and not at each other. It felt like it used to be with us in high school before the Tom mess. I don't know if she did it out of pity or concern, but I don't care. A closed line of communication opened up.

Before she left, Aunt Amy wrote me a check for a thousand dollars to help my transitional growing pains. If I ever needed something, or some place to stay, she's around. I felt bad to take her money, but that at least takes the burden of rent for the summer off my head somewhat.

Outside of her contribution, all I got for Christmas was evicted from my childhood home.

How the hell did Santa misread laptop for live on your own on the list I sent? Outsourcing to China is going to kill this country's holiday wishes.

 


	18. The Real Chapter Seventeen

Still with the cold, but in with the spring semester that from the start went to hell.

In the winter of my discontent, everybody around me has lost their damn minds and decided to participate in an exercise of conformity. Jane, Malik, and Tom all proudly announced their decisions to join campus fraternities and sororities.

Jane, no doubt, was joining a social art co-ed fraternity Alpha Rho Tau to talk to a cute guy she met over break. Just like she retired being a lazy slug and joined the track team for a guy.

Malik was joining an academic physics fraternity called Rho Eta Psi, whose letters resembled the first three in physics. A small price to pay for dumbfounded, post graduate network unfulfillment. He's so much better than this and it bugs me he's on the bandwagon, but I get it.

Tom was joining Eta Theta Sigma as a legacy. Let him tell it, it was a mandatory Sloane family tradition to be affiliated with a monogram that spells hoe. Apples rarely fall far from trees.

Here I am a social introverted outcast amongst my outcast peer group once again. Hard not to judge their fancy free, money driven pledge ambitions when I'm in a perpetual state of confusion over being disinherited.

No letters in my life except those from FASFA or IRS, as I hope and pray I can go it alone without any financial security from my family to fall back on, or relish in the luxury of keeping a well-stocked fridge to the standards of the silver spoon I'm accustomed to.

But such is the life of a revolutionary hanging out at a Bolshevik cemetery for inspiration.

I wouldn't say it caused tension, but I made it a point to be unavailable to everyone as to not hear about their irritations with being exploited during their pledge processes, or the waste of money that came along with it.

Instead, I took weekly refuge in the financial aid office attempting to invoke my newly minted independence status. A precautionary avoidance of any calamitous intent by my parents to enforce abandonment on my student status harder than the climax in a Henry James novel.

Such is life having to finance your education from loan sharks with contractual interest. Here's to an increase in scholarship money. A girl needs compensation for the waste of time most of these classes take away from watching quality television.

The money situation was tight but manageable. Jane's sympathy for my severed family ties waned once she ran through her extra overage pledging only left her with enough for the starvation diet and a roommate unwilling to share what little morsels to snack on.

The poverty train can keep on moving but the buck for a cup of noodles stops here.

Mom was maintaining military silence, and her surrogate enforcer formerly known as Dad followed suit. The calling and quickly hanging up gave him away. Quinn called and left one message. Finally, the Vatican has definitive proof hell did indeed freeze over this winter.

That, or Mom is running out of soldiers to do her dirty work for her.

It's lonely at the top with no one needing you. A blossoming dating life crashed and burned like a nun in a mosh pit. Sidney Sheldon wished he could write fiction like this.

Jodie was my rock, and the only person not stuck on stupid. Our messenger and email stayed full with conversations of the second semester zombie culling. Her roommate was pledging too, and so was Mack, and it was hindering their already strained relationship and her nerves.

Malik was definitely not cut out for the pledging, and the harassment was spilling over into work. His big brothers were showing up more regularly, interfering with tutoring sessions just for the hell of it. It wasn't just him either; it was everybody pledging.

It was hard to ignore when the harassment in my tutoring sessions started as well.

"Um, excuse me." I say as these strangers begin interrupting my tutoring session with a student.

"You've got to be kidding right? You're talking to us?" Geez. Tommy Sherman all over again.

"Look, this is the tutoring lab. We are all on work study and our paychecks depend on our ability to you know, work. If you need tutoring, make an appointment at the desk." I said irritated.

They mocked me and got others who weren't supposed to be there in on the fun and games.

"Oh, really? What is a four eyed geek like you going to do about it? This is official business and these gumps are our property." the smug blonde one said in a huff.

"Last time I checked, the 13th Amendment ended human bondage for profit. I don't care what you do with that information. What I do care about is that students who are trying to learn something in classes they pay for are being hindered by distractions during their time."

"Do you know who we are? We run this campus." Another one said from the back.

"Right, and yet your organization is dependent on students in this room who need to keep their GPAs up in order to be eligible members in your bullshit. So you can get the hell out so we can get back to work or I can call the Dean and each one of your charters to come and get you."

"You guys are dead. You're going to pay for this!" They screamed at their random pledges. Ironically, they looked completely scared shitless at this type of intimidation.

"No, they are not. As much as I have little sympathy for the idiots that cosign to being abused by the likes of you for perks unknown, I'll be damned if you punish them for trying to save their grades instead of doing your dirty laundry." I pick up the phone on the wall and start dialing.

"What are you doing?" One of them said while I was on the phone.

"Calling the dean. It's bad enough people who deserve to be at this school were put to the side so idiots like you could bring campus diversity, but it's even worse when those that came here to get an education and borrowed money to do it are stopped by the likes of you."

The leader of the pack hit the receiver to interrupt the call.

"Okay, okay, okay. We'll go. We're on probation, we can't afford that."

"I don't want to see you unless you make an appointment. Understand?"

"You just bought yourself a blackball ticket. You'll never make it in any sorority here."

"Who gives a shit? I actually came to college to graduate." I say as they walk out the door.

I got a unanimous standing ovation from everybody in the room after they left. Even Malik was absolutely stunned I stood up to them.

"You actually scared them Morgendorffer. I'm impressed. Didn't take you for a champion of people's rights." he says in gest.

"Why do you take that abuse from them? You're smarter than that."

"Options when I graduate. A month of two of mindless irritation is worth a lifetime of connections. It's not easy being a physicist in the job market."

"It's not easy being dead or mentally unstable either." I say back at him.

That was just the beginning of Malik using me to hide from his pledging responsibilities. Only good thing that came out of it was that he finally got to come over. Albeit it was mostly from hiding from his big brothers and their rest depriving pledge processes.

My comfy imprint on the couch was quickly erased by Malik's full body impression. After a while he even had his own blanket and pillow. Jane didn't notice since she was barely at home with her midnight activities of painting tombstones in graveyards.

Between his drama, Tom's drunken keggers that left him naked in fields, and Jane's over the top artistic pledging reducing her to some questionable fashion choices, my life was overrun with pledge drama. Manic depression is a frustrating mess.

 


	19. The Real Chapter Eighteen

Thanks to running the idiots out of the smart zone, I was the talk of campus. Professors and students alike avoided me like the Black Plague. Lawndale High all over again.

The whispers over me interrupting the most sacred of collegiate Holy Grails blackballed me from ever joining any organization at Raft, Greek or not. This shaming was so enforced I couldn't even get a partner for a group project.

My glowing reputation even got around to BFAC and Bromwell. Tom and Jane felt uncomfortable to hang out with me in public over the sordid scandal. At least that kept them from dragging me to party central unknown. Malik didn't care one way or the other.

At least I can say I have one friend still on campus not ashamed to be seen with me.

By Valentine's Day it was very apparent I wasn't going to get asked to the dance, a marriage proposal, or an invite on a highway to hell. Adding insult to injury, this fake Hallmark makes me want to throw up a gallbladder stone.

Celebrating a demigod few had any origins about was justifiable enough to cut class all week. All this love exuberance drenched in student organization propaganda promoting parties and the exploitation of gullible students as new indoctrinated members is getting on my nerves.

Malik's clinical trials had started so he was able to find refuge in the physics lab from his tormentors. They didn't play games down there, not when you can answer harassments with an ample supply of acid. We barely talk outside of work and I kind of miss his banter.

With all that on his plate he still thought enough to buy me a basket of gummi maggots with a card that apologized for not giving me real ones out of expense. I love a man that knows maggots are really a girl's best dead friend.

Getting a soft spot for his gift quickly evaporated when I got word Mystik Spiral was coming back in town. It's been long overdue for another visit for Trent and I to continue that conversation. This time they were alternating between Raft and BFAC for kegger bashes.

The sucking sound of Trent's soul being flushed down the toilet is reminiscent of NAFTA and American industrialization. Nothing says career advancement like outsourced cover tunes at a karaoke kegger. Jane's going to have to tell him take breaks onstage again to get him to perform.

It's going to be an interesting two weeks Trent hangs at our halfway house. One weekend at Raft, and the other at BFAC means we're going to have to open the Soup Kitchen again.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy with Jane pledging and Malik at clinical trials now. Be cool, Morgendorffer. You've got plenty of time to hang out with him. Alone. Or so I thought.

When he got in from New Jersey, Jane immediately joined at the hip with him like a long lost Siamese twin. As soon as I heard him in the living room, she was whisking him out of the door to bar hop and mingle. We didn't get a chance to say hello.

Noticeably absent was her usual harassment of begging me to bar hop with her. No inclination in the slightest. The ghost of the Misery Chick lives alone as a sacrifice for her popularity of cashing in on her celebrity brother.

It irked me a little bit. Trent is nowhere into that scene. He's barely coping with the band as it stands. The last thing he is into is being used as a VIP card access with his paying public.

It's like taking Vanna White to a spelling bee for vocabulary credentials.

I didn't get a chance to see him until a few days after he came. Jane was dragging him all over BFAC to classes, her frat house, and even that road trip to Bromwell for Tom's house, so by the time they got back in I'd already went to bed. That morning brought the knock on my door.

Hopefully like Three's Company there is a rendezvous waiting for you, Morgendorffer.

"Daria, are you awake. It's Trent." came after a light knock at my door.

"Come on, I'm up." I said, sitting up and turning the lamp on.

"Janie's gone to class. I was supposed to go with her but I lied and told her I had a sound check this morning. I wanted to spend a little time catching up, you know."

Trent climbed in and sat at the foot of my bed. I gave him a pillow to get comfortable.

"How's everything with you? Band still sucking the life force from your veins."

"Like that song I wrote, Betrayal. This isn't me. Or what I want to do. I wish I were more like you, Daria. Just walk away from everybody with my principles."

"I see you've heard about the divorce from my parents. You know it's not final until after I pay the court fees." Nice of Jane to tell my business without consulting me first.

"Sorry I wasn't around to give you a ride during Christmas. I think we were in Alabama somewhere."

"It's okay. I'm over it. Mom never called me back to check on me."

"It's her loss, Daria. One day it will all make sense."

"Or lead me to a very expensive therapy bill since institutionalization is illegal." We laugh.

"Are you hungry? Let's go try and fill up the fridge again."

I'd be lying if I say I didn't just want to lounge in the bed with him and continue that last conversation. Trent didn't press and neither did I. Besides, a fridge full of groceries is a nice gratifying pleasure as well, if you're into turn on of alleviating hunger throughout the day.

The trip to the grocery store put us back in role reversal, with Trent being the confessor, and I the priest. Tensions in the band were affecting their work, and he was all but done. No longer the principal songwriter, the original material bore little difference from the covers.

It didn't help that they had been offered a record deal on a label with major distribution, either. Being the next Goo Goo Dolls was everything Mystik Spiral was never supposed to be; the other members refused to play older songs for being 'downbeat'.

Trent was definitely at rock bottom of the fish pond.

In the middle of all this sibling bonding, he tried to tell Jane about it, but between scolding him for being ungrateful for his success and showing him off for popularity points, she ignored him. That hurt him a lot; Trent never measured his level of success on paid gigs.

Rather, he measured it by the two hundred bucks he put in my hand instead of hers for a rainy day and wouldn't take back. That was how he measured his successes.

I'd be lying if I said we didn't spend the afternoon in his pity party exclusively, because we did. Unlike before, we didn't fool around. Just talked about nothing in particular.

That is, until Jane's rare celestial event of coming straight home from early afternoon classes interrupted our peaceful solitude.

"Trent! Good to see you're up. Give me five minutes and we can hit happy hour." was all she would say walking in the door. In silent agreement I would leave and retreat back to my room.

He obviously didn't want to go, but like me, did it out of guilt. A Jane Lane temper tantrum is only a step nicer than two starving screeching hyenas locked in a tight cage.

Better to go out and risk her inebriation beyond the legal limit that ultimately leads to her sleeping with her head on the toilet bowl.

Bad timing plagued this trip. When he was freed from Jane, Malik was over crashed out on the couch or floor, whichever was available. When Malik was gone, he'd be either with Jane or they guys rehearsing. We definitely were more out of step than Ethel Merman's disco album.

The weekend of the BFAC kegger gig was crazy. Malik called off getting sleep at my place when a pledge physics prank failed and the pledges had seventy-two hours to fix it. Tom and his pledge punks drove down for the show but got lost and wound up in lockup for intoxication.

Just goes to show that God does have a sick sense of humor with the Sloane family.

Jane shadowed Trent from the time he woke up to rehearsal, sound check, warm up, and the gig. In between that she subbed as his left lung, and breathed air for him too.

And like clockwork, she met a new guy that broke the ties that bind as his interim chaperone and ditched him on her campus at his gig, proving she is not the one to be chained to in a Roger Corman exploitation flick.

Three o'clock in the morning I'm awoken by a knock at the door that could only be him.

"Hey, Daria. Sorry to wake you up. Janie split with some guy. You know how it is." he says coming into the apartment.

"I don't think she's back yet, but you know where everything is." I say yawning.

"Just going to take a shower and relax, if that's cool?" he says.

I left him to his own devices and got back in the bed and waited. The anticipation of it all was choking, but patience is a virtue. When he was fresh and clean, there was the knock.

"Hey, Daria? Are you still awake?" he says from the door. This time I didn't even bother turning on the lamp.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't grateful for the stress relief. Or the heightened risk of arousing Jane's drunken suspicion upon her early morning return being a turn on. Trent didn't disappoint bringing be to that seizure state again.

As I rod pleasure wave after wave, a wave of sadness swallowed me. Some damn mood swing, grandma. Against my will I bawled like a baby. Trent thought he hurt me, but that wasn't it. I was thinking it was the election of George Bush, but that just made me nauseous.

"Sometimes sorrow manifests through different channels of pleasure. Ride the wave. Let it coast." he said holding me like a girdle. I'm uncomfortable; Vulnerability isn't my strong suit. As far as I'm concerned, after this, it doesn't exist. He better not write a song about it, either.

We didn't let that temporary insanity interrupt our pleasure, and immediately went back to enjoying pleasure the good old fashion way by sneaking and creeping. So when Jane had late days, we mostly took advantage of the lazy afternoon, and moments when Jane would ditch his show for a new inspiration. It was awesome. Slowly, but surely, the thoughts crossing my mind of sleeping with him became more prevalent.

Before I could act on them though, like incontinence, he'd have to go again.

And just like a recurring bad rash, Tom came back to spread himself thin.

 


	20. The Real Chapter Nineteen

Of all people, the pressure of pledging was unraveling Tom's psyche. His frat brothers were especially cruel to him for coming from a much affluent background, and them taking over his guest cottage couldn't have happened to a better trust fund baby.

Tom's money definitely didn't teach him to stand up for himself, but it did teach him how to buy himself shelter. Coincidentally, that happened to be our apartment.

Jane was supportive of it, and because of Malik's daunting presence pledging I couldn't loudly proclaim hell no. Since I wasn't in the loop of the secrets of getting one's ass raked over coals for potential networking opportunities, they left me out of their conversations.

After all, the power of weed compels Jane Lane from time to time, or at least makes her a popular dealer with the future burger flippers of BFAC's graduation pool.

I, however, with my moral standards couldn't be bought that easily without food involved.

My romanticized view of Tom invading my personal space was one that rivaled a stalker seeking out a celebrity. His mere presence annoyed me during the week because he obviously was not in class, nor did any assignments, and was guaranteed honors for the inconvenience.

Makes me mad to think I gave Jane hell for getting a bi for being on the track team. Tom's getting a bi just because his family built a wing there. Oh the hardships of 1st world problems.

At least Malik knows how to not wear his welcome out. Tom was good for a free meal every now and again, and recapturing some of his stash in the name of the republic.

His far from Broadway one-man show Fear and Loathing in My Apartment in between flirtatious gestures on my couch is a bomb with critics. Trent's visit was enough to ignore Tom's intentional but accidental brushing up against my body so I wouldn't give in like last time.

Thanks to him my routine for midterms was in shambles. Instead of studying the weekend, I had to put strange frat boys out of the shelter who had come for Tom but found our hovel conquerable. It was more than enough and I threw them all out.

They come from rich families. Go buy an apartment and congregate there.

"You just can't kick our guests out like that. Show some respect, Daria." Jane says breaking my balls about it.

"I think I was pretty accommodating until our apartment turned into Lambda Lambda Lambda. I can't afford to flunk on account of a depreciative reputation with the cool kids."

"This isn't your own little fortress. I pay half the rent and I say he stays."

"Then take them to your half of the house and keep him out of common areas."

"Damn it, Daria, just because you like avoiding all social contact doesn't mean you get to infringe on the rights of the rest of us." she says angrily.

"Far be it for me to understand the absurdity of flunking out of school for a kegger disguised as an employment opportunity. Unlike you Greeks indoctrinated into the system willing to fail, I need my damn scholarship." I said jumping up at her and went to my room, slamming the door.

"It's always homework with you brain types." she says screaming at the top of her lungs.

Even by her standards that was a pretty weak comeback. Guess those sentiments hit too close to home since her scholarship was in jeopardy since pledging idiot stupid moron.

At least after that blow up, Tom's irritating presence in the house was reduced to weekends, and Malik's presence all but disappeared since moving his second home to the Physics lab.

Showing appreciation for all his nights of couch crashing, he invited me to the mysterious world of the ignored; the torture chamber for chemicals and proteins among madmen.

Not the best place for socializing after hours, but Malik was excited for the company. Eh, he takes what he can get.

I'd taken the pre-requisite science classes and ripped a dead animal open against the wishes of animal rights activists to keep my GPA up but this was a world of its own. Malik was more than ready to use me as a co-conspirator on whatever cluster evaluation he was working on.

In exchange, we critically discussed politics and literature and the influence on the sciences. Guess it's only fitting working around dangerous and explosive chemicals while discussing the shortcomings of your government. See, everyone wins!

We got to know each other's career aspirations in a cynical sort of way. I've never met anyone that relishes playing with electricity to prove magnetism theories. Maybe I just have a thing for sociopathic risk takers.

"Daria, can I tell you something, and you promise not to tell?" he asks in the lab watching his new experiment.

"Only if we spit, shake hands, and pinky swear first." I say sarcastically.

"I'm serious." he says calmly. I nod that I will not tell his secret, whatever it is.

"You're not about to tell me you're an alien are you?" I say concerned.

"I thought you already knew I was a dwarf Kanamit, scorned for being raised as a vegetarianism."

"That explains the lack of height and weight due to starvation, but are they going to eat you too?"

"Only as a last resort appetizer. Serious though, Daria, I don't know if I want to be a physicist anymore. There, I said it." Sounded like a load off his chest.

"Whoa. That definitely is not a candidate for Red Shoe Diaries. What made you change your mind?"

"Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to be a physicist but I don't know why. My parents just jumped on the bandwagon thinking I'd make a lot of money behind it."

"Sounds like typical child exploitation to further the American Dream agenda."

"Don't get me wrong, I love science. I do. But I just don't want to wind up with a government job making destructive war objects that destroys civilizations."

"Way to go not putting pressure on yourself. Nobody said you had to be the next Werner Heisenberg."

"I mean, I don't want to risk life and limb just to discover things to make the world better."

"Anybody that can see through the propaganda has to face that choice. Sometimes being the change you want to be and inspire others to do comes with a great sacrifice."

"So you know what I'm talking about, right? I have so many great ideas down here in the lab, and I resist from pursuing them out of fear."

"We all have to make a choice. Integrity is not a marketable skill in any industry. Everybody has a price or a bullet with their name on it."

"Men or drones. The fun of adulthood syndrome. Like being on the Stepford Wives."

"Just practice before Soylent Green is people and the real fun starts." We both laugh.

"You think I'm being silly, don't you?"

"No, I don't. Malik, we all go through questioning what we want to be when we grow up. And when we become that thing, we'll question it again to see was it the right choice. But you'll never going to be able to know unless you're brave enough to take the first step."

"Yeah? You think?" he says worried.

"That, or you'll wind up in some dead in factory job mixing radiation for the creamy filling in cheap packaged desserts."

"Nothing like creating obesity in poverty stricken neighborhoods. Next best thing to building a hydrogen bomb for the masses."

"Quit putting so much pressure on yourself. You don't know what journey physics is going to take you on. Don't ruin it from doubt or some dumb professor second guessing you."

"How'd you know I got second guessed?" he says curiously.

"I've been there, done that, bought a t-shirt, and went home. Professors don't know everything. If they did, they'd have real jobs in the major and wouldn't have to teach."

We laughed almost to the point of tears.

"Thanks for that. I mean it. I needed to hear it."

"Called your mom and told her about it, and she dumped all over you, huh?"

"Yeah. She told me if I dropped my major she'd disown me."

"Because you were just making up problems that didn't exist, right?"

"Eyes on your own damn paper, Morgendorffer." he says laughing to tears.

When the laughter died down and the ability to breathe without our sides hurting returned, I broke down and nonchalantly told him about my winter break disinheriting moment. He didn't interrupt or interject, which made me brace for another round of sympathy I didn't want.

Surprisingly, he didn't give me any in the traditional order of things.

"Our mothers really come from such an exemplary generation, don't they?" was all he said.

"In a class all by themselves, just like cancer." I say sarcastically.

"You should write a story about it. Call it _Mothers Eating Their Young_."

"Nah. Too much like a children's fairytale."

"It's going to be a tough road ahead, but you're going to make it. With a brain like yours, you'll always be one step of the game."

"So says the guy that should take his own advice. I'm not alone in this well, either."

"No arguments there. You know we're a pathetic bunch of smart asses, right."

"Only if you take into consideration we are products of an environment that reward bad behavior and idiocracy to promote more long term pharmaceutical dependency to cope."

"And yet these are supposed to be the best days of our lives." he says laughing.

"They said the same thing to Oliver Twist when he asked for more gruel."

"You're going to be alright, girl."

"You too. Pinky swear." I say. After a moment of silence, we busted out in laughter again.

Sometimes it's alright to share your commercial free very bad afterschool special moment with your fellow nerd. Pocket protectors are not included.

 


	21. The Real Chapter Twenty

Spring break. A collegiate holiday that serves no purpose, at least to me. I like that it is a constant reminder at how Asian academics beat America's ingenuity every time. We get more breaks than the working world gets vacation time.

At least daylight savings time brings in more lights in the evenings so I use less candles when the power company shuts off the electricity.

Jane's big plans don't include me; there is some artist colony she wants to check out in Florida for the June session. Another clue she's trying to dodge me again. Hope as she's solving this mystery she won't forget how the last art colony experience almost made her a lesbian.

Either way it goes, I hope she cons Tom into taking her so he can be out my hair.

Since Jodie's parents are giving her grief again about her lack of an extracurricular lifestyle, she's seeking shelter with me. I know she'd rather be with either of her suitors but they both made their spring breaks boys only road trips with their testosterone pack. I got beer.

Malik has to fly the coop too. Dorms close during the break and he would never ask to crash that long with me. He's not into the party life so he has no other choice but go home.

As far as I know, Mystik Spiral are booked solid in Myrtle Beach and Daytona, so I'm not expecting any unexpected Trent layovers. Depending on the level of popular demand for requests divided by Trent's nerves, he may be coming right after though.

A week before all this academic exuberance is forgotten under the tap of a keg, Jane and I kept a modestly friendly banter in the house. Tom had worn out his welcome on her nerves, and her new potential kidnapper she was dating was taking up any time she had from pledging.

I had enough beer and noodles and still was holding a nice confiscated stash bundle from him, so there was no need to go down that road again.

By no stretch of the imagination, campus was dead on Monday, and it showed at work. Most of the professors were breaking their necks to beat the rush out, so class for the majority of classes were done Tuesday. That definitely sent the pledge process at Raft into overdrive.

Malik's dad wasn't picking him up before Friday afternoon, and while I was hoping to hang out with him outside of the people without the white coats and observation tables in the lab, it was a no-go. His frat has caught wind to his cancelled classes and captured him.

The tutoring lab shut down that Monday, but checks came out Wednesday. Wanting to avoid the mucks a running, I got up real early to be there when they opened at eight so I could be back in the bed by ten. Such a small price to pay for my minimum wages.

Malik ran to catch me walking across campus on my way back to the shuttle. He was the happiest I'd ever seen him, and had on a shirt with Greek letters across the front.

"Daria, look. I made it! Went over this morning. I'm a physics Greek man now."

"Congratulations. I'm sure somewhere the Greeks are cheering on this bastardization of their name into readable American abbreviations."

"I just wanted to thank you. I couldn't have done this without you." he says.

"The credit is all you. I just let you drool on my unvacuumed floor to get up dirt by any means necessary."

"It's a nice feeling to revel in being a makeshift dust buster. You hungry? Let me take you to get something to eat." he says excited.

"Don't you and your frat brothers have to go sing a bonding song with Bunsen burner torches or something?

"Eh, we already did that at sunrise. C'mon. It's been awhile since we got to sit down and talk over a meal." All I can do is laugh and follow him.

What I wasn't anticipating was going back to his dorm, and having him cook breakfast.

Malik lived in one of the nicer co-ed dorms built in the last ninety years, back when extra care was taken to ensure building materials were made from flint and could burn the place down in three minutes if anything caught on fire. Definitely not missing the dorm fire drills.

The elevator was broken, so we had to climb ten flights of steps to get to his floor. Gotta love him living on the top floor of a matchbox that lacked a fire escape.

"Well, here we are at the freak show." he says, opening the door to his room. Holy shit. His room looked just like the physics lab, with a bed in it. Petri dishes, litmus papers, test tubes cluttered desks. Periodic table of element posters. And a lot of other things from class.

"Is there a two headed bearded lady in your closet?"

"Not in mine, but my roommate might have cadaver midgets. Biochemistry major." There was even an ant colony mounted on the wall for their observations! "Don't worry, they can't get out. Double plated plexi-glass." he says, dropping food in there for them to devour.

This was the stuff of B movie subplots that died in the 1970s. I avoided staring at the ants too hard. They tend to remember faces when they have their revenge. One slight tremor and a Joan Collins sighting there goes the neighborhood.

He took off his newly minted shirt and put on one just raggedy enough not to care if grease burned a hole to match the others on it. No chance of a sneak peak of his chest as his sleeved undershirt blocked any hopes of a peepshow.

The kitchen area was one that he shared with a suite of rooms, with each suite having its own refrigerator. I took a deep breath and Malik wasn't going to cook me a frog for breakfast or dissect it for the good parts. Thankfully the only thing that was in there was actual food.

I watched in amazement as Malik fixed me an omelet, toast, turkey sausage, and grits. It looked and smelled like we had went to the diner, without wondering if the cook washed his hands or spit in the food.

Drinking juice from a laboratory flask was a nice classy touch most restaurants forget.

Malik offered me a seat on his bed, and handed me a plate while he plopped a squat on his roommates to eat. At least his bed was made. I haven't done that since 1876.

"Won't your roommate get mad with you sitting on his bed?"

"Only if I drop acid on it. He hates that getting in his eyes." We laugh.

This was the best thing I had ever tasted. Thank you Malik for proving that Dad burning down the kitchen was just an isolated experience unrelated to gender. When we were done eating, he got up to wash the dishes, refusing to allow me to help him.

He left me in the room sitting on his bed brokering a peace treaty with his ants not to harm me upon their escape in exchange for information about any fumigations. Hope springs a turtle.

"You have Christmas lights around the walls?" I say, noticing the pattern around the perimeter when he comes back in the suite.

"Yeah, but they are for nightlight purposes. My roommate likes horror films and is scared of the dark."

"Nothing like Christmas lights to make you immune from the machete of a slasher villain."

"Hey, you want to watch a movie?" he says, going to his closed closet. A nice homemade entertainment set comes out of a slide with a VHS and DVD player.

"I thought you didn't engage in idiot box antics?" I say curiously.

"I am anti- idiot brain death true, but I like old films. Here, take a peek." he says giving me a leather case filled with films.

Malik had some great classics, mostly of books I've read. All the Shakespeare films, and a ton of black and white flicks. I pick _The Portrait Of Dorian Grey_.

"You sure love romantic comedies of the tortured mind don't you?"

"Nothing says cinematic love like being in a perpetual state of possessive madness."

He takes the DVD from me, loads it up but doesn't play it. He gets real serious and sits next to me on his bed shaking life a leaf.

"I need to ask you something before I lose my nerve. Is that cool?" he says trembling.

"As long as it's not an invitation to join the Borg, sure." I say a bit concerned.

"While resistance is futile and a lot easier than what I'm about to say, that's not quite what I had in mind."

"Ok, young man, you have the floor." He takes a long deep breath and faces me.

"Daria, I really like you. A lot. You're the first girl that I've dated more than once."

"Well there is no accounting for bad taste, now is there?" We laugh a little off that.

"I thought a lot about this an I just want to know," he says with a lengthy pausing.

"Will I run as your vice president for the United States? Why the hell not."

"Will you do me the honor of taking my virginity?" Whoa. Excuse me?

I wasn't expecting that. Especially considering our relationship's passion is that of a devout monk up on the mountain. Say something, Morgendorffer.

"Why me, Malik? You're a Greek man now, you can have any girl you want for, uh, that."

"Besides flattering me in fact that you think a physics fraternity is going to bolster my popularity on campus, I think the first time should be with someone you care about."

"Malik, we've barely held hands. You're a bit frigid when it comes to stuff like this."

"I've been wanting to kiss you since that first time we went out. I just didn't want to rush or scare you away. You dig my vibe so you know how overwhelming that can get."

"Yeah, I do. Especially if you're not sure you're ready for it."

"Look, I'm not the greatest looking guy on campus, and not trying to put you on the spot or anything. I just know if that there is one person in the entire world I want to share this memory with its you." Finally, he made that move and we kissed.

And that is always how these things get me in trouble.

 


	22. The Real Chapter Twenty-One

Good Friday. Traffic was congested with vehicles and people alike fleeing campus as if a plague had hit. I couldn't sleep so I was up really early. Truth be told Malik was on my mind.

I met him for early morning tea at the coffeehouse by my shuttle stop. We talked about everything but the pink elephant in the room but were cool. Our hangout moment was only interrupted by me having to go get Jodie, who was smart enough to get on the early bus.

Around ten, her bus came in with little to no delays, including our handholding.

"Well, I made it girl. It's good to see you." she says giving me a hug. "And who's this?" she said giving me the eyebrow. She knows who this is, but I see she's playing it off.

"Jodie Landon, Malik Hunter. Physics major and crossed over neophyte."

"Ah, Greek man. What'd you pledge?"

"Rho Eta Psi. It's an academic honors fraternity. Pleasure to meet you, Jodie." he says, letting my hand go to shake hers.

"Likewise. So, guys. This is your town. Lead the way." she said grabbing her bag.

"I guess I'll leave you ladies to it, then. Less witnesses the better." Malik said jokingly.

"It's still early. Why don't you come back to my place? Your dad won't be here for a couple of hours, right? I say grabbing his hand back.

"I would but with everything starting to get wild around here, I better be on standby in case he makes me run and jump in through the window Dukes of Hazzard style."

"At least you can have a career as a stunt double for the Kung Fu movies to go along with translating the subtitles."

"Someone's been listening to the stories of my fantasy youth. Look, I'll call you when I'm leaving, and email you like crazy when I'm home."

"You know this feels weird. Right, but weird."

"So come here and let me give you some of what I think I'm good for." he says in a serious tone. For the first time without shame or sneaking, I kiss a guy in the open. We were kind of into it too, and I could feel the warmth of Jodie's smile beaming across while I was doing it.

"See you in a week." I said waiving to him as he walks away.

Jodie didn't say a word to me until we got on the shuttle.

"So when did the Shaolin monk leave the order at the top of the physics mountain."

"Only recently when the question of his faith conflicted with his desire." I said partly smiling, and definitely whispering.

"Uh, huh. After I talked to you Monday night, I assume." she said in disbelief. All I could do was grin and laugh, which she joined right in. "Alright. That's enough to hold my curiosity for now. But so I know, is your roommate privileged to this recent detail?"

"No, as that information is still classified to the public."

"Got it. I'll wait for this one. Drinks on me." She brought $200 to help out, and I had put up $100 from Trent's last visit, so we were good on funds.

By the time we got back to the apartment, Jane was rushing to get out of there. She'd overslept and wasn't going to make her departure time. With an open ticket she'd be at the mercy of standby. She still was cordial to Jodie and apologized for not having the time to talk with her.

After she left and Jodie got herself settled, I called Tom. He was more than happy to oblige seeing an old face from Lawndale and buy us groceries with the right excuse. That, and it gave him an opportunity to vanish from his pledging duties.

It took longer than I anticipated to get Tom out of our hair, but it was worth it for the three hundred bucks in food and beer we didn't have to spend. That evening we ordered a pizza, cracked open some cold ones, watched some television.

After the food got there, I dropped my weed stash on the table, and Jodie pulled out her rolling papers. This was turning into a Captain Pothead united adventure.

"Damn, this is more than what you brought the last time."

"The pledging process brings out the addiction in people."

"Well thank Tom and the hoes for the small favors." We laughed a bit at that one.

"Can you believe he joined a frat whose emblems spell hoe?" I say.

"Freudian slips come out even to the very best of trust fund idiots." she says.

Jodie rolled two joints this round, and handed me one of them. Knowing what I'm about to tell her, I need one to myself to get my courage up.

"You know I only ever do this with you. It's like a secret sorority ritual." I say dragging.

"It gives the right motivation for abstract confessionals. Speaking of which, who does your newest piece start with, Tom, Trent or Malik?

I take a deep toke and exhale as long and smooth as my lungs will allow.

"Me. This newest story starts with me."

 


	23. The Real Chapter Twenty-Two

Only the power of weed can compel me to let inhibitions down enough to tell things about myself I truly find as an embarrassing character flaw. I wonder does the government know this.

After rehashing the Tom and Trent temptation saga, I got down to Malik.

"He cooked breakfast and washed the dishes? I can't even get Mack to do that. I'm so jealous. But go on." Jodie says.

"Well, after settling on a movie, he worked up the courage to ask me to take his number."

Jodie couldn't help but grin at that one smoking her joint.

"No shit? He just came right out and asked you on bended knee, huh?"

"His justification included wanting to share a special moment with a memorable person, and I was the one." Jodie knows she can roll an exceptional joint when she puts her mind to it.

"Malik got mad game. That was a cool line to run. I know you were about to haul ass out of there, though."

"The thought did cross my mind a couple of times, especially as he gave his reasons for picking me. But we kissed before I could dash."

"Oh, shit." she says laughing. "Hitting a girl above the belt in a weak spot."

One gigantic toke from honesty, and one exhaling breath to get on with the story.

"We made out. There, I said it. Tongue hockey and all." I say taking a swig of beer.

"I bet that's not all you did with the monk, either." she says teasingly.

"Does discussing creating a petition to give de facto citizenship to Julia Child for excellence in the culinary arts count?" Jodie throws one of my couch pillows at me while laughing.

So in between involuntary weed induced giggling, I threw myself under the bus and explained to her my rationales to Malik that I had zero experience in the sex department and embarrassingly admitted my virgin status as evidence of not knowing what the hell I was doing.

"Why did you tell that lie? You know exactly what you're doing. Let the record show Mr. Trent Lane can disprove all delusional myths, but I'll allow it this time."

"Anyway," I say throwing a pillow at her, "he listened closely at my objective argument of being the wrong choice for his deflowering plans."

"And after careful but nervous consideration, you punked out to second or third base."

"Sort of. He threw the ball, I hit it, ran to first, second, third, and slid all the way home." I say laughing.

Jodie raised up out of her comfortable lounging position and sat at attention.

"Wait, what? Run that by me again, Morgendorffer."

"Gave in to the lust, and took his number and uh, lost mine."

"No shit?" she says curiously.

"No shit. We slept together." I don't know who was more shocked at the revelation, her or me. The awkward silence soon gave way to a celebratory toast after she knew I was serious.

"Well alright then, grown woman. Give up the ghost." she says excited.

"What do you want to know? You've done it before so you know how it goes."

"Hell no, you are not getting off that easy. This was a HUGE step for you. Give it up, what happened that made you go for the gold?" she says, sliding down on the floor with me.

"Honestly it was the way he said I didn't have to but was okay if I wanted to that made me take the plunge. Tom said it to me too, but it was something in how Malik said it made me know I could trust him. Took the edge off I felt with Tom."

"Malik got game like Playstation, don't he? And knows how to press the right buttons on your controller." she says giving me a high five.

"And before you ask, we did use latex condoms lovingly important from Thailand. Even following the directions like we didn't know what we were doing." I say, finishing the joint.

I told her how we took the middle ground and took our own clothes off and dealt with the insecurities of nudity in the light. That precipitated exploring every curiosity we've ever had. Hours of interactive explorative foreplay before having enough nerve to do it.

That included embarrassing seizures when his tongue fondled my breasts, when he went down on me, when he sucked my toes against my objections, and even kissing my neck playfully while doing it. His technique was a mind blowing experience that left no verbal description.

And yet thinking about it has me throbbing in places that won't even for Trent.

"It must have been off the chain to have you at a loss of words. I told you he was going to come out of a bag on you."

It was even more blushing to tell her that everything he did to me, I did back to him in spades. Even the embarrassing part on going down on him, which was my first time doing it.

"Did you spit or swallow?" she asks half laughing.

"I know I'm a newfound nympho and all, but I haven't crossed over to Real Sex territory yet. He pushed me gently out the way before that happened and it hit the floor."

"Wilhelm does that to me when he gets real excited. Mack, on the other hand has no control so I might have to spit. I told you, Malik's a keeper."

"You actually go down on your guy, you know, on a regular?" I say embarrassingly.

"Well, yeah. Wilhelm was the first and it was kind of a turn on. You'll realize as you come into your sexuality that some people get off giving pleasure, and some get off getting it. I'm a giver. But everybody isn't worthy. You'll know the specials one who are when you see them."

"And you let them release like that? Like, you know, in your mouth?"

"Shit happens in the throes of ecstasy. We come in their mouths when they go down on us. It's nothing to be embarrassed about unless you swallow. Some bridges that can't be crossed."

"But don't they swallow when we come? I'm lost on this logic."

"It's different with us. We don't have the capacity to hit the ceiling with creamy colored goo on our orgasmic end."

"It's not like you to make a double standard to your benefit Landon."

"Call it what you want, but it's like comparing a faucet drip to a water hose blasting down your throat." That was a personal experience analogy I really could have done without.

"Moving on from that uncomfortable flashback, I don't think I had sex right. It was nice once we got, you know, into it, but no seizures." I say, worried.

"Very few women have orgasms their first time out of the starting gate. And you came in other ways before that happened. So you did it okay. It didn't hurt, though, right?"

"No; Malik was really gentle with me. It was uncomfortable at times. Like getting fitted for a maid of honor dress and constantly pricked by pins. There was no soreness or any blood afterwards."

"Good dude. Means he really cared about you on the receiving end and put in work. And I'm sure you did it a couple of times." she says, throwing a bag of chips at me.

"Shut up. But I did want him to go a little faster though." I say laughing.

"You have plenty of time for the jack rabbit races once you're broken in proper. In the beginning its best to keep a slow and steady pace to avoid interior damage."

"I'm not thinking he and I are going to do it again. It's not like we're in a relationship."

Jodie bursts out laughing at me uncontrollably and without mercy.

"Who are you kidding? This is just the beginning in a long exploration period with you and him before you two catch feelings and declare yourselves official."

"How can you be so sure? I mean, we're just friends with weird schedules."

"I saw him, he's not in love with you, but the like is strong in that one." she says, winking.

"Yeah, whatever." I say. Not like I can say anything else at this time.

"Anyway, Morgendorffer, now that you've gotten over the hump, brace yourself. Trent's going to be the next notch on your belt." she says, stretching back out on the couch.

"I doubt it. He knows I never slept with Tom. When he finds out this new development his fascination with turning me out is probably going to turn him off."

"On the contrary. This will only turn him on now that you have no boundaries. Being a virgin, there was baggage. Limits on your toleration points. Now that you lost that number, he is going to wear you out."

"But you just said I had to be broken in before going on jack rabbit mode?"

"Yeah, and Trent is going to blow that back out. Ha ha." she says, tickled at herself while I'm confused. "Look, how many positions did you do with Malik?" she asks.

"Just one. The one with him on top." I say, clueless.

"Okay. Trent's an experienced lover. You are about to experience the Kama Sutra from a biblical perspective and your body receptors will never be the same again. Once you have the best, it's hard going back to bullshit. Trust me, I know those pains." she says.

"But what if he is a bad lover, or I suck?" I ask. "What if we do it and he never wants to talk to me after that. I'm not trying to ruin our friendship over hard feelings about a lay."

"Daria, please. Trent is going to be one of the best lovers in your life, and one you can call on for a dry spell pick me up even after your lamb lies down on Broadway. No amount of overthinking is going to remove the new swing he's about to leave in your ass."

"So, like my fellow hussy in the room, I'm going to have to juggle two lovers, is that it?"

"Maybe. Depends if you get serious with Malik. Even though by that time you will be addicted to Trent's bedroom skillset. Keep plenty of condoms on you. When Trent is done breaking them walls down the thought of a contraceptive will be hard to focus on."

"Oh, man. I feel overwhelmed like the Titanic right now."

"Well, at least you got through the tough part already." she says grinning.

"I hate to ask, but exactly what is that?" I say.

"Going down." she says, and we both break out in laughter.

 


	24. The Real Chapter Twenty-Three

This semester is going by quick, fast, and in a hurry. Time flies when your sex life comes alive but your social life still stays at a screeching halt. Life, for better or worse, was finally normal.

After spring break, Malik and I really didn't have time to hang out. Between me trying to find a summer job so I wouldn't have to opt for a bulimic lifestyle of survival to his organizational commitments and end of the year trials, we really didn't have the time for socializing.

Don't get me wrong, we saw each other at work, and he called every other night on his break. Our intimacy levels in public were right back to the virgin era. Even so, I missed him.

Damn if I don't want to feel like he played me for a fool. Like he's the villain and took advantage of my womanhood and ran away with society's most precious attribute. But I can't.

Even if we aren't ever intimate again, I wouldn't trade giving up my number to him for anything. That is, unless the time machine is invented. Then all bets are off. Che Guevara in the Cuban Revolution wins the fantasy. Sigh. It was the right place at the right time.

Deep down I know he didn't hit and run, even if his absence drives me crazy.

Jodie tells me to keep my cool and have patience. All work done leaves him time to play. Once his grades and the semester are in the clear, I'll have more Malik time than I'll know what to do with. Must keep my guard. This is the shit compromising positions are made of, she says.

Even without throwing myself under the lust bus, we both know she's talking about Trent. It's been since about February since he's come by for a visit, and not by accident, either.

Jane was finally done pledging and was reaping the benefits of her fraternity status in the party scene. I saw her just enough to know when food was low in the kitchen. This newfound popularity put Trent off from what he deemed a bad scene.

We talked periodically. Whenever Mystik Spiral had some gigs up in a five-hour radius he'd call and say hi; sometimes if I were alone we'd catchup and our favorite confessional game. Ironically, it would always be innocent conversation, and nothing sexual in nature.

Jane was definitely out of the loop these days with everybody, being preoccupied with other interests that didn't include the rest of us. I didn't tell her about Trent, and definitely didn't tell her I slept with Malik, though I wish I could. We should be able to share stuff like this.

It almost felt like lying at the Watergate court proceedings.

Tom was also losing his circle jerk of friends and family. While less of an asshole after his failed pledge bid, his peers didn't want to be around anyone that washed out to greatness. Turns out he wasn't hoe material after all, failing to cross the burning sands of his ancestors on line.

His family was really coming down on him for missing this Sloane tradition, and even threatened to cut his expense account down if he didn't make Bid Week in the fall. I started hanging out with him again out of pity, and to fill the void left by Malik.

Couldn't have happened to a nicer self-indulgent narcissist.

More often than not, I found myself on a couch watching mindless television with him. A real sense of a 1984 style date there. Between talking, drinking, and smuggling a new stash of weed from him, I assumed he would eventually make a move for me.

Imagine the shock and awe when he kept his hands to himself. Finally have sex, just to lose my sex appeal. It was all too coincidental, but I was thankful for the less than stellar reception of his temptations. April turned out to launch a long celibate dry spell with no end in sight.

Still, this behavior wasn't very Tom-like, and peaked my curiosity more than it should have. All was revealed one night after too many reruns and not enough Irish stouts. In retrospect, I wish we never would have admitted to the pink elephant in the room.

"Daria, I really appreciate you hanging out with me during this rough time in my life. You're my only real friend I have and I'll never forget it." he says from his end of the couch.

Right. Because not making it into a social organization that considers building a golf course an action of saving the wetlands is just suicide worthy. But I say something else instead.

"That's what Stalin said to Trotsky before he fled to Mexico." I say mockingly.

"You might want to shank me with an ice pick after I tell you what I'm about to tell you."

"Unless you have knowingly passed me and STD your life should be safe." I say.

"I've been sleeping with Jane off and on all school year." he rushes in one big sentence.

Damn if Jodie didn't call this one a mile away. Shocked, but not surprised. Had I cared to pay closer attention I might would have known without anyone telling me, but I was just trying to stay in my own lane and ignore it.

"I'm assuming this includes even after fooling around with me that hangover, right?"

"Yes. But there's more." he says nervously.

"Let me guess. You secretly married her and your parents disowned you." I say sarcastically.

"Worse." he says. "She lost her virginity to me the first week you guys started school."

All I could do was pause and look at him like he was a piece of shit.

"Damn you, Tom. Jane and I have been at odds living together and come to find out you're the source of the confusion. I should have known. Do you have any idea how destructive you are in a relationship?"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm a dick." he says sheepishly.

"No, you're a self-righteous, pretentious asshole. I'm tired of hearing your excuses. She's been giving me the third degree out of her own insecurities of you cheating on her."

"That's not fair, technically we're not in a relationship, so I can't cheat. Jane's no saint either."

"Oh, right. How could I forget that? It's just two people in a bad business relationship. She used you to get what she wanted and used what she thought would make you give it to her. I think you should go now before she finds you here and this gets worse."

"Wait, Daria, give me a minute to explain, okay."

"No, I don't want to hear your boring woe-is-me poor little rich boy rationales."

"I only told you because you're really my friend and I wanted you to hear it from me, before it came out some other kind of way."

"No, you told me thinking I'd help you fix the problems with her, or be your stand in. You did this for you! Just go, Tom. Take your self-righteousness back to Bromwell."

"You know I'm getting sick of being the bad guy when all I do is try to be the nice guy in the room." he says, leaving without much of a fight for once, which was alright by me.

I'm tired of you thinking your money gives you a bi to be an asshole.

Well, it's somewhat out in the open, again. Jane and I are at odds over sharing what piece of Tom we're willing to put up with no matter the cost to our friendship. I shudder to think Jane might be in love with him.

The way she's been acting whenever there is strife between the three of us, the Spanish inquisition questioning if I come back late with him, and the paranoia of me losing my number to him now all make sense.

You'd think we'd learn from the first time this never ever ends well.

History may not repeat itself, but with us it sure does rhyme a lot.

 


	25. The Real Chapter Twenty-Four

The conclusion of my sophomore year at Raft was proving to be more on a somber note, and less exciting than a funeral with a cheap casket body drop out fiasco.

Post Tom's revelation, he stayed out of sight, and I avoided Jane at all costs.

While I shouldn't be pissed off that she kept something as huge as sleeping with Tom a secret all this time, I am. We hadn't even been broken up a good three months when she did it.

The least she could have done after all those weekends of pizza eating and note comparing was to come clean about our ex. Instead, she intentionally hid it from me, and yeah, I feel betrayed. I never set out to hurt her, and she gave it right back in spades.

Guess it's her turn to be the lady and the tiger now.

Granted, this makes me mommy's little hypocrite. I haven't exactly been open and honest this entire school year about my undercover exploits either. Between the two of us, we keep better secrets than classified vaulted government documents.

To get over the situation and avoid any further confrontation, I took whatever piece of shit job I could find to get me gone from the house. With the sheer dumb luck during finals week not to have any in-class exams, my summer break started two weeks early.

I got hired at Book Barge, this rinky dink chain bookstore that struggles even to stock the classics. That is, unless we count Bernstein Bears and Dr. Seuss.

By far it is the most degrading thing next to that peanut joint I worked in, with terrible pay and uniform and nothing worthwhile to read. But I can sell idiots calendars with cats on them.

It's nice to have a couple hours of mindless entertainment to myself.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still bitter about the agony of Lawndale. Mom's silent treatment war raged on. Quinn calling a little bit more lately wasn't exactly helping either. Her graduation is coming up from our irritating alma mater. No doubt she wanted me to come.

My time away from the fold must have softened her, because she went through the trouble of finding Tom to send a message to him about it. Outside of relaying it in an email, he's kept his distance from me.

Aunt Amy promised me a round trip ride if I were willing to go. Considering she didn't attend my graduation, I'd take it as an opportunity presenting itself for her to duke it out with her sisters for their unforgivable parenting etiquette.

With a new crappy job and the possibly having to endure my aunts in a small spaced auditorium together as their weapon of choice, it wasn't looking good. It's not like her graduation is a big damn deal anyway outside of celebrating the end of the Fashion Club once and for all.

A wasted high school career for fashion to get accepted to a party school is not my idea of a future Nobel prize winner worth taking off work for.

A self-rewarding career of spreading high cholesterol to the local population left me little to no time for Malik. He'd be around for some part of the summer though, catching up on electives that didn't require science. As a frat man he could capitalize on living in their on-campus digs.

Why any physics fraternity has a house is beyond me, but at least he has a place to crash affordably without taking out loan money.

I hadn't planned on much for the summer but sheer avoidance of all of my problems and a random self-loathing session in the privacy of my room. I figured Jane would be her usual party self now that classes were done, and would barely be around anyway. I was half right.

That art colony she applied to accepted her at the very last minute, and gave her a two-month window in consolation. I figured the change of scenery would do us both good. That is, until she told me she wouldn't be paying rent.

"I need every penny I have and then some Daria to make it while I'm there." she says.

"But you have a place and rent to pay, even if you're gone. It just doesn't work like that."

"Geez, Daria. I'm an artist. I go where the opportunity takes me. You'll work it out. It's only for three months."

I don't think she really realized how screwed up this was going to make my living situation.

Push came to shove I could have called Aunt Amy and asked her for the money, but I had too much pride thus far to do that. So I gave Jodie a call to bitch about how Jane put me in the trick again. Somehow we hatched the idea she would come and take Jane's place around here.

Jodie needed her own break from her life. Mack was staying on his campus for football camp, ditching all their summer plans in Lawndale. Wilhelm was going home for the summer too; both developments were leaving her frustratingly celibate.

Going home meant parental enforced extra-curricular activities of aggravation. After I wrote Jodie a nice embellished story about a non-existent summer internship opportunity for her folks, it was a done deal. It was a story that had all the makings of an episode of _The Twilight Zone_.

As an added bonus, she told her parents that her half of the rent was the full amount we pay, so between her contribution and Aunt Amy's money from Christmas, I'd be able to hold on until well into October. By then I'd have my overage check and a little savings from work.

Jane was more than happy to sublet her bedroom for the summer, proclaiming she would be gone until end of August, opting to return to Lawndale before coming back for classes. Fine by me. I'm not one for sad endings anyway. With BFAC's semester ending two weeks after Raft's, she'd be gone anyway in the art lab finishing final projects.

I had gone to full time hours at the bookstore by the beginning of May; with classes being over for me by then it made sense to sell myself into corporate slavery for two bits. I rarely was around, intentionally taking the night shift.

A nice factor that made Jane forget to tell me about our month long house guest.

Trent was driving her down to Florida, and decided to come early and stay until she could move in. Since that wasn't until the first, that was more than just a visit. Overall, I didn't mind.

He was taking a mental health month break from the band, and without Jane asking me, approved him to use out apartment as his rehab of choice. After dropping her off in Tallahassee, he's supposed to rejoin the band in Tampa to write new material.

And the Pope is going to finally approve birth control and abortions in the Church.

From the looks of his couch crashing, Trent's best days in Mystik Spiral were behind him. His award winning, critically acclaimed depression suite is going to need more than a month long miniseries to recuperate.

For the most part he had our apartment to himself, and made the very best of it. Outside of sleeping away the days and hiding from the world on our couch, he did little more than buy groceries, eat, and sleep. Our sleeping schedules were similar, so we rarely saw one another.

One particular day I worked a double and was really worn out. I came home exhausted and smelling like parchment paper from the middle ages after cleaning out old forgotten used books from the vault. Trent was awake and waiting for me as I walked in.

"Hey, Daria." Trent said in his familiar whisper. "Janie told me you'd be late coming in."

"Yeah. Had a run of incomplete encyclopedias to put together tonight. One hundred sets." I say, tired and plopping next to him on the couch. "Didn't expect to see you up this time of day."

"Well, Janie woke me up trying to find something she lost for class. Left an hour ago."

"Not surprised. She gets crazy during finals, misplacing everything." I say.

"Since I was up, I went ahead and ran you a hot bath. Figured you'd want to wash the dirt of the system off your skin." he says, smiling.

"That, or the mediocrity of minimum wages from involuntary servitude. But you didn't have to do that."

"I know. But it seemed like the right thing to do after a night of exploitation. The water still should be hot. Do you want me to go out and get something to eat?"

"No, Trent. Running the bath is enough and I'm not real hungry. Thanks, though."

After patting him on the shoulder, I took off for the bathroom. The water was just right. I'm so tired right now the thoughts of whether or not he cleaned the tub flee as soon as I get in.

The bath had me relaxed enough to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. When I got out the tub that was the plan. That is, until Trent was laying in my bed waiting for me.

"Hey, Daria. Thought I'd just wait and see how you know, the bath was." he says softly.

"It was, you know, nice." I say, mumbling and embarrassed being in nothing but a towel.

I knew I was in trouble when he got off the bed and came closer. For each step he took, I took a nervous one back until I wound up on the wall with nowhere to go. Kissing. Forgot how much I missed that one. He was a great kisser.

Everything happened faster than I anticipated. Hands pulled and tugged for and against my towel until it fell to the floor in defeat. That old conversation was starting again. Except this go round we moved past the mainstay topic into other areas. He didn't go beyond my limits.

My body was betraying me; it craved Trent something serious, in a way I had never experienced before. This was more than just him leading the way into unadulterated harlequin romance lust. My confidence was up and I just wanted him as bad as he wanted me.

There was nothing holding us back. Hands reached in the drawer where I kept the emergency the stash of unopened condoms. After making all the necessary adjustments and protective barriers, I finally slept with him.

After all this time of waiting for the veil on my imagination to be lifted, it happened. While he was always at his own pace and gentleness, Jodie told no tales at to the limits Trent dared me to explore with him. That's not to say it wasn't without its awkward moments.

While Malik and I equally shared the voyage ahead, from the first position it was clear Trent was the conquering captain of this vessel. No, I wasn't a virgin, but it felt like somehow it got put back somehow. The tightness, the uncomfortable entry points were still pretty fresh.

Most of all, there was no indulging into the previous foreplay that brought about those miraculous seizures. Initially, I was taken aback mostly because he never bothered asking me if I was a virgin. I guess that was oblivious after we got into it and didn't feel anything break.

To his credit my well-meaning second lover was an avid master of the Kama Sutra. After working through the rough patches in the beginning, an entire new world opened up. Once again Jodie was right, he did wear me out, even if no major seizure was brought about.

Or I was just tired from a long day tilling in the fields.

My curiosity had been satisfied without the unnecessary slaughtering of felines for such satisfaction. Malik may have been the first, but he has a tough act to follow now.

We were five rounds in before fatigue really started to set in and I was just about ready to go to sleep for the long haul. The clock was fuzzy in sight, but it was definitely in the noon hour.

"Hey Daria, that was amazing." he said whispering right next to me.

"So was keeping your word you wouldn't go beyond what I let you."

"That's right." he says, coughing while laughing.

"Would you say it really makes you think?" I say, laughing.

"Yes. It makes me think you two have some explaining to do." Busted.

Startled, we reached for the cover to hide our shame, figuratively and literally.

"Hey, Janie. Home from class early. Daria and I were just catching up." he says nervous.

Jane is still standing in my doorway, hands folded over her chest, mad as hell.

"Is that what they are calling it these days? Catching up?

"It's not what it looks like." I say, trying to have some dignity.

"Oh, so this doesn't look like my best friend and brother have been fucking behind my back. Then what does it look like then?"

We had forgotten to close the door in case she came back early. I would have been deeply embarrassed had she not acted betrayed after all she's snuck and done.

"It's not behind your back. This just sort of happened." I say, trying to defend myself.

"Get dressed. We need to talk Daria. Now!" she says, ordering me before walking off. Now I'm mad as hell. At least she could have closed the door.

"Janie's pretty pissed off. I should go for a while." Trent says apologetically.

"No. You don't have to go. Just stay here, I'll be back."

It's time for Jane and I to have that overdue woman to woman conversation.

 


	26. The Real Chapter Twenty-Five

Trent took the high road of going to get everybody something to eat, and letting us duke it out in privacy. Can't say I blame the guy. From the storming in the living room, it was going to be one for the ages. That, or Jerry Springer.

"Look who's keeping secrets behind my back. I should have known. My best friend cutting me across the sides again." Jane says, condescendingly.

"The guilty normally have a tendency to accuse the innocent of their wrongdoings." I say.

"Come off the sarcasm, Daria. How many more secrets have you kept from me?"

"Probably less than you, but I'm not particularly counting."

"Oh, bullshit. You've been creeping around here for months playing little Miss innocence and now you're trying to play the victim."

"Look who's talking, the happy hooker that couldn't even be honest enough to tell me not only have you been fucking Tom these last couple months but that he took your number too."

Jane got real quiet, a shocked look coming over her face.

"He told it, didn't he? Son of a bitch. Well, it's out in the open now."

"Hey, it's your own damn fault for thinking Tom could keep a secret, especially if a pinky was involved."

"Far be it for you to come down off your condescending high horse and muster up some sympathy, eh?"

I knew I had no right to be pissed about it, but I was. The principle of the thing, even if I was in the wrong for making out with him and starting all of this.

"You couldn't even wait until after he and I broke up to sink your claws into him. Of all the guys on campus, you had to get him to take your number, right? Are you happy? You got me back."

"Trust me, it had absolutely nothing to do with you. We got drunk one night doing shots and it just happened. I barely remember how bad it was, especially when an empty condom wrapper is really all the proof you have that anything went on anyway."

"Sure, blame it on the alcohol. How could you keep that from me? After all the sea of faces with no names, pregnancy tests, and possible trips to the clinic, you couldn't share that PART with me. Bullshit."

"I know, I know. It's just that, look, I was afraid you'd try to go back and take him from me again. Okay. Is that what you wanted to hear? You happy now?"

"Jane, I never wanted him back! I told you that."

"Oh, now THAT is bullshit. If you didn't want him back then why did you fool around with him the night of the film festival, huh?"

Then I got real quiet. Looks like Tom has been cleaning his conscious a lot lately. I swear he causes more problems than cancer of the cervix.

"Ok, you got me. We were hungover, Tom made a move, and he caught me in a weak spot left of hungover."

"You could have stopped it and you didn't, Morgendorffer."

"You're right. I could have. But I was an ass who couldn't see past what my body wanted right then and there, and I make no apologies for that. But it didn't go any farther than that."

"Then why lie and say nothing happened. A finger bang is not exactly nothing."

I really want to sew Tom's mouth shut with barbed wire at this point.

"You accused me of sleeping with him. I didn't lie, we didn't have sex. I just chose to omit the part we did do. I wanted to tell you, but you haven't been exactly best friend of the year lately."

"Neither have you. God, I hate being like this." she says, self-loathing.

"You're always like this when it comes to guys." I break out in uncontrollable laughter.

"What's so funny, Daria?"

"This. All of this. Do you realize we have been treating each other like the enemy all semester over a guy neither of us really wanted to begin with? History may not repeat but it damn sure rhymes." I say, bringing her into the irony of the situation.

"I thought it was those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." she says laughing a bit.

"Either way, we have yet to learn from the mistakes of the past. You got me back for Tom. Can we get over it, finally?" I ask, calming down the laughter.

"Okay, look. Sigh. Let's just get it out in the open."

"I'm listening."

"I still like Tom, but I don't love him. He's decent for absolutely nothing. I may give him some from time to time if I'm drunk, or need to capitalize on his financial resources; nothing sober."

"I can't stand Tom, and want to super glue his lips together. He's worse than radiation after a nuclear fallout when it comes to relationships."

"Sounds fair to me." she says playfully punching me on the shoulder laughing.

"Jane, it truly doesn't bother me. I'm over him. He repulses me; there is absolutely no way even with liquor would I entertain him with any sordid dirty thoughts. If you want to sleep with him, go ahead; I doubt he gets better in bed for you. He couldn't even pledge the Hoes right."

"After sleeping with him, I can see why. That frat is full of people who know what they are doing. He definitely doesn't take direction well enough to be among elite lovers."

"So no more secrets, or running away for the summer trying to avoid the other?"

"Hey, you have the cinema, and I have the art colony."

"Just don't come back a lesbian in theory like last time."

"Eek. Don't even joke about that. Still haunts me in my sleep."

"Alright then." I say, reaching out my hand in handshake.

"Alright then." she says back, shaking it in agreement.

"Now there is something I want to tell you." I say, smiling.

"I'm listening." she says curiously.

"There are no virgins in this room." I say, smiling.

"I never guessed you'd finally break down and lose your number to my brother." she says, laughing in disbelief. "Better late than never, eh, Morgendorffer?"

"I didn't. He isn't the first one." I say, proud in the fact I have experience.

"Well aren't you just full of surprises." Jane says, playfully tapping me in the shoulder.

"I'm not that innocent with Trent. We have been fooling around since last year. This is just the first time we've done it." I say partially embarrassed.

"Spare me the details with the flesh and blood. But, uh, who was the first?"

"This boring guy I've been blandly dating most of the year."

"Wait, not that science nerd that crashed over here pledging?" she says in disbelief. "The one who was too scared to hold your hand, Malik?"

"No. Malik Yoba from New York Undercover. Of course it was science Malik!" I say.

Jane is in absolute happy shock about it. Or it could be congestive gas.

"When did all this happen that I'm just now finding out about it?"

"The day he finished pledging, right before spring break started."

"I want details, diagrams, and descriptions, Daria. Don't leave nothing out."

Finally, I got to tell my best friend everything that I wanted to say and then some, even the embarrassing parts. I left it to a technical description; only Jodie really knew the full extent of what all went down between us. Jane was still Jane, after all, with judgments.

"I told you a long time ago you are a little bit of a Lady and a Tiger. Welcome to the club, girlie."

"Thank you. It's nice to be accepted by my fellow estrogen related peer group."

"So what's the deal between you and my brother? Are you guys dating or what?"

"Hell no. Trent's got his life on the road, and I have academia. We're just good friends."

"He really likes you Daria. I just don't want to see either of you hurt."

"We're just friends exploring benefits. He's a good guy. I'd never hurt him. Hell, I'm not even really dating Malik either. It's just a lot is going on real fast and I'm just trying to catch up."

"Well, it seems like you got a handle on it. My lips are sealed."

"Unlike Tom's apparently." I say sarcastically interrupting her.

"Yeah, but let me give you some advice from experience. Carrying on with two guys falling in love with you is hard. Don't make any promises you can't keep."

"Neither of them are in love with me." I say disbelievingly.

"You can't be this blind, Daria. My brother is a tramp. He wouldn't have waited for you this long if he didn't have feelings. And as introverted as Malik is, for him to ask you romantic like he did means he's fond of you. Guys get really into you and it goes right over your head."

"So what are you trying to say oh great one?" I say sarcastically.

"Choose wisely. And stock up on plenty of condoms."

"Sigh. I've missed you Jane Lane."

"I missed you too." she says back.

We took the ring around the roses all year to get back to this place of serenity, but at least we had the courage to find it again.

 


	27. The Real Chapter Twenty-Six

I'm not very good with endings, especially when they are nigh.

The last couple weeks in the house with Jane were just like old times. It also was pretty hot sneaking around with Trent trying not to get caught, which we were very careful to do after being busted. Jane teased me far and wide, but never in front of Trent. I missed that.

Jane took back to casually dealing with Tom, keeping her word of using him for resources. When he spent the night in her room, I just took the opportunity to get in my own conversation time with Trent unnoticed. I teased her far and wide about Tom. She sullenly liked it.

When Jodie arrived a few days before Jane took off, it was really taking a trip back down memory lane. The gang was back together, and after six months of chaos, I finally had a little bit of peace back in my life. It was bittersweet when she left; we still had so much to talk about.

Just like before, we're down to phone calls and impromptu visits when a ride is headed that way. At least this go round we talk every week and catch up on the ends and outs of life.

Trent was Trent. He begrudgingly went back to his band to try and get back to where he used to be. And just like the other times, he was gone on down the road somewhere, trying to find his happiness. My door is always open for him to come and talk if he needs it.

My door is also open for our continuing discussion of, well, you know.

Jodie was great; she transitioned into the house with ease, and after she settled in it was like she had lived there since day one.

Which leaves me to Malik. I really did miss my friend and our talks.

On a humbug I called Malik up to check on him. Just so happened he had just come back from a quick break at home and was going to call me and catch up. Just like before, we are starting back at his pace, but I'm fine with that. Touching is involved this go round.

Outside of some lightweight making out watching old movies, we've been restrained.

While we haven't been intimate, its come close. But something tells me that may change in the future. I like where we are at. We're in a good place. Waking up in his arms with my clothes on isn't too bad either.

All in all, the year brought in some things brought in some new experiences that will give my writing work depth. The one thing I've learned is that it's okay to grow out of your shell and try new things. And it's all right not to be that same girl from high school anymore.

This adult shit is hard. Figuring it all out on your own is harder.

I've made some mistakes on this path. Contrary to my own popular opinion, I'm nowhere near from perfect. Had it not been for the adventures of this last school year, I may not have ever known that.

Growing up is celebrating both when you are right and when you are wrong, and not casting judgmental bias against one for the other regardless of the facts. Sometimes blessed are really the peacemakers.

I'm a woman now all on my own. So far, I got it covered. Now it's time to close this last chapter and call Mom. I have won many battles, but I'm tired of that war. Sigh. I miss them. Aunt Amy said Quinn was plenty hurt I was a no-show for her graduation.

She may talk to me, she may not. I stood my ground on that, and I'm not asking for forgiveness. These last six months have proven I can make it without the Morgendorffer trust fund. Best get my nerve up while the iron is hot; I'm still not coming back volunteering for shit.

I'll extend this olive branch just this one time, but the Trojan horse is on standby.

Collegiate manic depression doesn't always have to be a frustrating mess.

 


End file.
